GIFT   OF 
Hearst  Fountain 


CLAUDIO  AND  ANITA 


DON    FRANCISCO    LOPEZ 

Father  of  the  author,  who  delighted  to  tell  his  children  stories 

and    romances    of   his    youthful    days,    especially    stories    of   his 

grandfather,   Claudio  Lopez    (the  hero   of  this   story),   some   of 

which  are  included  here. 


CLAUDIO 
AND  ANITA 


A   Historical  Romance 

of  San  Gabriel's  Early 

Mission  Days 

BY 
MARIA  S.  LOPEZ  de  CUMMINGS 


Published  by 

J.  F.  ROWNY  PRESS 

Los  Angeles,  Cal. 
1921 


»"*•  J  •  f«  j'*  *'•*/*••      *    •  • 

•  •*«•/-'•«*    .      •  •       •    • .  •   «    - 

•  •  •   *      §•*•"•          ••<•»»       •     « 


Copyright,   1921 

by 

Maria  S.  Lopez  de  Cummings 
Los  Angeles 


]^ 


DEDICATION 

To  DR.  FRANCIS  L.  HAYNES 

A  MAN  OF  GENIUS  WHOSE  FIDELITY 
TO  DUTY  WAS  HIS  FOREMOST  CHARAC 
TERISTIC.  IN  TOKEN  OF  HIS  NOBLE 
DEEDS,  AND  WITH  GRATEFUL  AND  UN 
FADING  MEMORIES,  THIS  LITTLE  WORK 
IS  AFFECTIONATLY  DEDICATED.  "HE 
BEING  DEAD  YET  SPEAKETH." 


466521 


INTRODUCTORY 

By  JOHN  STEVEN  MCGROARTY,  Author  of  "The  Mission  Play" 

The  pages  of  this  book  will  tell  a  story  of  old 
San  Gabriel.  It  is  a  true  tale,  and  therefore  the 
more  alluring  and  fascinating  because  it  is  still  the 
fact  that  "truth  is  stranger  than  fiction." 

But  it  still  remains  true,  also,  that  it  is  a  high 
and  great  art  to  clothe  truth  in  that  shining  garb 
which  fiction  has  immemorially  worn  to  attract 
lovers  to  her  train.  And  you  will  find  when  you 
have  read  this  story  that  Mrs.  Cummings  is  a  new 
master  of  that  old  art  of  clothing  truth  in  fiction's 
shining  garb. 

San  Gabriel  is  a  place  in  the  world  about  which 
romance  clusters  as  the  tendrils  of  a  vine  cluster 
upon  an  ancient  wall.  From  the  very  beginning 
of  the  white  man's  occupation  of  California  it  was 
a  busy  and  important  place.  It  was  the  place  where 
the  fourth  link  of  the  chain  of  great  Franciscan 
Missions  in  California  was  forged,  and  it's  Mis 
sion  came  to  be  known  as  the  "Queen  of  the 
Missions." 

It  was  a  great  place  indeed  that  San  Gabriel 
came  to  be.  In  the  Mission  days  it  was  noted  for 
both  it's  great  achievements  and  it's  tireless  hospi 
tality.  Travellers  who  made  their  names  immortal 
entered  it's  sunny  portals  and  were  sheltered  under 
it's  rafters.  The  wanderer  was  fed  at  it's  groan 
ing  boards — boards  that  groaned  with  plenty — 

vii 


viii  Introductory 

and  were  given  rest  in  the  peace  and  joy  that 
dwelt  so  long  under  it's  roof. 

It  is  a  place  that  Time  has  now  changed  out 
of  all  recognition  of  what  once  it  was.  And  you 
will  know  this  better  when  you  have  finished  the 
last  page  of  the  fascinating  story  that  is  here  writ 
ten.  Only  the  church  remains  of  what  was  once 
the  vast  establishment  of  the  Mission  of  San 
Gabriel. 

Now,  what  Mrs.  Cummings  has  done  in  the 
pages  of  this  book,  is  to  recreate  for  your  imagi 
nation  the  San  Gabriel  that  used  to  be  in  the  old 
days  that  are  gone  by  and  passed  away  forever. 
As  you  read  this  story  the  hands  of  the  clock  of 
Time  will  be  turned  backward  for  you  and  you 
will  have  as  your  companions  those  who  are  now 
long  since  with  the  dust  of  places  that  they  knew 
and  loved.  You  will  see  what  joys  and  what  sor 
rows  were  theirs  and  how  they  lived  and  had  their 
being. 

It  is  the  artist  in  literature  alone  who  can  ac 
complish  a  miracle  like  this.  And  Mrs.  Cummings 
has  done  it  first  of  all  because  in  her  childhood 
and  youth  she  knew  and  loved  the  old  San  Gabriel 
of  which  she  writes.  And  also  it  was  a  place  that 
was  well  known  to  her  fathers  before  her.  And 
she  writes  with  a  charm  that  is  the  charm  of 
memory. 

Wherefore,  to  all  who  love  a  good  story,  and  to 
everyone  who  love  beauty,  I  commend  this  book. 


PREFACE 

Among  the  brave  heroes,  who  sacrificed  their 
lives  to  spread  Christianity  and  civilization  in  the 
early  settlement  of  this  country,  was  our  hero, 
Claudio  Lopez  y  de  la  Mora.  While  yet  in  his 
early  twenties,  he  left  his  elegant  and  cultured 
surroundings,  in  answer  to  the  appeal  of  the  mis 
sionaries  for  assistance  in  their  work,  at  the  ardent 
wish  of  his  illustrious  mother. 

Though  not  of  a  religious  order,  he  laboured 
among  the  Indians.  How  he  taught  them  the  in 
dustries  and  arts,  as  well  as  how  to  cultivate  the 
land,  and  how  he  won  their  love,  obedience  and 
respect,  has  received  but  scant  notice  in  the  pages 
of  history.  Although  the  foundations  of  the  mis 
sion  church  at  San  Gabriel,  where  he  labored, 
were  already  laid,  he  supervised  the  erection  of 
the  church,  and  the  mill  (the  first  this  side  of  the 
rockies)  and  of  other  minor  buildings,  in  the  con 
struction  of  which  a  knowledge  of  architecture 
and  engineering  was  required. 

He  was  born  of  noble  parents,  in  the  north  of 
Spain.  His  love  for  the  wonderful  beauties  of 
nature,  and  a  deep  religious  sentiment,  gave  his 
life  that  remarkable  sweetness  and  beauty  for 
which  he  was  noted. 

His  unselfish  and  loving  devotion  to  his  work, 
coupled  with  great  personal  suffering  and  sorrow, 
is  a  lesson  fraught  with  meaning  for  men  who 


x  Preface 

suffer,  yet  work  and  hope  for  better  things.  He 
spent  most  of  his  spare  moments  in  writing,  and, 
it  is  believed,  that  he  wrote  his  memoirs,  which, 
unfortunately,  were  destroyed  by  fire,  together 
with  other  valuable  documents,  the  day  of  his  sud 
den  death.  It  would  have  given  great  pleasure  to 
have  seen  and  read  his  manuscripts,  but,  since  it 
has  been  ordained  otherwise,  we  submit  to  the 
inevitable. 

In  the  Mission  Church  of  San  Gabriel  is  the 
tomb  of  our  hero,  Claudio  Lopez  y  de  la  Mora. 

I  am  indebted  to  my  sister,  Mrs.  Francisca  Lopez 
de  Bilderain,  for  the  valuable  research  work  and 
information  which  has  aided  me  in  this  work.  I 
hereby  return  to  her  my  warmest  thanks. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


Table  of  Contents 


INTRODUCTORY  .  .  ', vii 

PREFACE   ix 

BOOK  I. 

Chapter 

I.     THE  COMING  OF  THE  HERO 13 

II.  THE  FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  CROSS  AND  ANITA  18 

III.  CLAUDIO  AND  ANITA  PLEDGE  THEIR  TROTH  24 

IV.  "A  SATAN  INCARNATE  WORKS  His  WILES"  31 
V.     OUTLAWS  PLY  THEIR  NEFARIOS  VOCATION  39 

VI.     "MY  WORD,  IT  CANNOT  BE  RECALLED"  .  .  45 

VII.     CLAUDIO  SUCCESSFUL  IN  His  MISSION.  ...  50 

VIII.     "MY  LOVE,  FOREVER  WE  MUST  PART"  ...  55 

IX.     SNATCHED  FROM  THE  JAWS  OF  DEATH  ...  62 

X.     "You  HAVE  THE  WRONG  MAN  !" 69 

XL     FATE  RESCUES  ANITA  FROM  DON  MISHEL  75 

XII.     "FATHER,  I  AM  RESIGNED" 81 

XIII.  "I  CANNOT  CURE  YOUR  MISTRESS'  MALADY"  91 

XIV.  "I  DESERVE  DEATH,  I  DESIRE  IT  !" 98 

XV.     "To  THE  MEMORY  OF  THEE,  SANTA  ANITA"  103 

BOOK  II. 

I.     THESE  AND  OTHER  PAGES 113 

II.     DON  CLAUDIO  MOVES  TO  Los  ANGELES.  .  .  117 

III.  A  HURRIED  SUMMONS  TO  SAN  GABRIEL.  . .  120 

xi 


xii  tfable  of  Contents 

IV.     FATHER  SANCHEZ'  ADDRESS  TO  THE  NEO- 

PHITES 123 

IV.     CLAUDIO  LOPEZ,  A  PIONEER  OF  CIVILI- 

ZATION 126 

BOOK  III. 

I.     RULE  OF  FRA.  JOSE  MARIA  DE  SALVIDEA 

AT  SAN  GABRIEL  MISSION 131 

II.     THE  DESPOILING  OF  THE  MISSIONS 135 

III.  FATHER   SALVIDEA'S    REMOVAL   TO    SAN 

JUAN  CAPISTRANO 137 

IV.  THE  PASSING  OF  A  NOBLE  SOUL.  .  139 


CHAPTER  I. 
THE  COMING  OF  THE  HERO 

[SHIP!     A  ship!"  exclaimed  Father  Sal- 
videa. 

"It  may  be  just  the  spray  of  a  high 
said  Father  Juan,  the  resident  priest  of 
San  Diego  who,  in  company  with  Father  Salvidea 
of  Mission  San  Gabriel,  had  been  anxiously  look 
ing  for  a  sight  of  the  long-expected  ship. 

Yet,  as  Father  Juan  spoke,  a  ship  was  sighted, 
its  long,  graceful  body  and  gleaming  white  sails 
vaguely  outlined  against  a  radiantly  glowing  sky. 
It  was  just  a  modest  vessel,  but  it  rolled  majes 
tically  into  port,  bathed  in  the  subdued  flashes 
of  the  setting  sun. 

It  was  a  beautiful  spring  day  in  April.  The  rays 
of  the  setting  sun  were  shedding  their  golden  man 
tle  over  old  Pacific,  while  all  Nature,  in  primitive 
and  majestic  beauty,  gave  welcome  to  the  heroes 
who  were  to  serve  in  further  developing  and  beau 
tifying  the  country. 

The  countenances  of  both  Fathers  Salvidea  and 
Juan  beamed  with  delight,  as  they  welcomed  the 
noble  heroes,  Juan  and  Claudio  Lopez,  who  had 
come  in  response  to  Father  Salvidea's  appeal  to 
the  mother  country  for  two  young  men,  physically 

13 


14  Claudio  and  Anita 

strong  and  capable,  who  would  assist  him  in  his 
mission  work,  and  who  would  co-operate  with  him 
and  help  him  carry  out  his  plans  in  the  gigantic 
task  before  him.  The  young  men,  in  return,  court 
eously  paid  homage  to  the  fathers.  Father  Salvi- 
dea  was  immediately  impressed  with  Claudio's 
distinguished  bearing,  and  he  selected  him  as  his 
assistant.  Juan,  remaining  in  San  Diego,  was  to 
assist  Father  Juan. 

Claudio,  loving  the  pleasures  of  life  and  realiz 
ing  what  it  meant  to  be  deprived  of  associates  and 
home,  and  having  abandoned  a  career  he  had  plan 
ned  for  himself,  was  reluctant  in  responding  to 
the  call.  It  was  then  that  his  illustrious  mother 
appealed  to  his  better  nature,  bringing  before  him 
his  duty  to  the  heroic  work  that  would  immortal 
ize  his  name  through  all  time,  and,  moreover, 
would  perpetuate  the  glory  of  Spain.  So,  inspired 
by  her  fervent  prayer,  he  accepted  the  task  that 
came  into  his  life.  It  was  then  that  the  most  sacred 
and  dearest  ties  were  rent  asunder.  Was  the  sac 
rifice  worthy  of  the  cause? 

Claudio,  with  Father  Sal videa,  proceeded  to  San 
Gabriel.  When  he  reached  the  mission  and  sur 
veyed  the  wild  country  and  realized  the  enor 
mous  task  that  was  before  him,  and  contrasted  the 
surroundings  with  the  scenes  of  his  distant  and 
palatial  home,  it  was  not  to  be  wondered,  that  he 
became  disheartened,  discouraged  and  rebellious, 


<?he  Coming  of  the  Hero  15 

and  longed  to  return.  Father  Salvidea  well  knew 
where  his  thoughts  and  heart  were.  So,  sitting 
beside  him,  with  kind  and  encouraging  words,  he 
presented  to  him  the  noble  duty  that  fell  to  his  lot 
as  a  soldier  of  the  church  and  the  king.  "My  son," 
pleaded  he,  "accept  the  honor  that  is  given  thee." 

While  the  father  was  thus  speaking  the  moon 
rose,  forming  glowing  shadows  around  the  court 
where  Claudio's  bed  had  been  placed.  The  father 
said  the  fresh  air  would  benefit  him.  How  sad  he 
felt,  so  far  away  from  his  family  and  friends. 
And  those  grim  shadows!  were  they  phantoms, 
warning  him?  What  was  that  one,  obscuring  the 
center  of  the  court?  Oh,  it  was  only  the  shadow 
of  the  big  cross  over  the  eastern  door.  Neverthe 
less,  that  one  especially,  impressed  him  immense 
ly  ;  it  filled  his  heart  with  sad  forebodings  and  in 
creased  his  home  yearnings  threefold.  Would  his 
cross  be  as  heavy  as  that  one  lying  near  him? 
Undoubtedly  it  seemed  ominous. 

"What  good,"  thought  Cl audio,  "will  all  my 
studies  and  vigil  do  me  here?  Why  did  I  consent 
to  mother's  wishes?  Are  all  plans  of  life  come  to 
an  end  in  this  utterly  desolate  place?" 

"Why  has  the  strand  been  snapped  when  my 
career  was  reaching  its  height? 

"Why  have  1  been  called  upon  to  make  this 
dedication  of  myself  to  an  obscure  ideal?  This 
is  a  new  world,  I  was  told,  and  I  was  to  assist  in 


16  Claudio  and  Anita 

the  building  up  of  a  great  human  work  for  my 
king,  Christianity  and  civilization.  This  is  a  new 
career  open  to  me;  but  I  never  can  see  anything 
but  desolation.  Will  I  live  and  die  in  this  far-off 
land, — I  a  descendant  of  a  great  warrior,  Juan 
Lopez,  Duke  de  Medina?  I  have  left  my  home, 
the  center  of  elegance  and  intelligence  to  plunge 
into  this  wild  adventure.  I  want  none  of  it,  only 
the  certitude  of  joy,  service  and  beauty,  gardens, 
flowers  and  music,  art  and  the  refinements  of  life. 
I  was  more  eager  for  pleasure  than  for  glory.  I 
will  go  back  to  the  old  world,  my  world.  Surely 
some  one  can  be  found  more  fitted  than  myself  for 
this  work!" 

Thus  were  his  thoughts  like  lead  hammers  on 
his  heart ;  but,  weary  from  the  long  ride  from  San 
Diego,  he  fell  into  a  deep  sleep. 

The  following  morning  broke  warm  and  bril 
liant.  The  sun  was  just  peeping  over  the  snow 
capped  tops  of  the  San  Antonio  mountains,  when 
Claudio  opened  his  eyes  slowly,  as  if  afraid  to 
look  on  the  horrid  shadows  of  the  night  before, 
but  was  surprised  when  he  saw  the  most  beautiful 
morning  that  ever  greeted  mortal  eyes.  Every 
thing  combined  to  make  the  scene  cheerful.  The 
slender  jasmine  twigs  and  many  flowers  were 
gracefully  yielding  to  the  gentle  mountain  breeze, 
impregnating  the  air  with  delicious  aroma.  The 
mocking-birds  were  enthusiastic  with  their  ma- 


Coming  of  the  Hero  17 

tutinal  songs.  A  pair  of  white  pigeons  was  coo 
ing  under  one  of  the  belfry  arches,  exactly  beneath 
the  historic  silver  bell.  Involuntarily  his  eyes 
turned  to  the  center  of  the  court.  The  sunbeams 
were  there,  softly  kissing  the  very  spot  where  the 
heavy  cross  lay  the  night  before. 

He  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  with  his  face 
buried  in  both  hands,  and  his  elbows  resting  on 
his  knees ;  and,  in  deep  thought,  fell  into  a  trance- 
like  state  in  which  a  new  world  unfolded  before 
him  with  a  vision  of  a  scene  in  which  his  life  and 
heart  would  form  a  part. 

CLAUDIO'S  VISION 

The  sun  now  shining  over  the  San  Gabriel 
mountain  peaks  throwing  its  rays  over  the  frozen 
dew  drops  of  the  mountain  trees  and  wild  flowers, 
caused  them  to  sparkle  and  flash  like  gems  with 
the  iridescent  colors  of  the  opal.  In  the  midst  of 
this  magnificent  scene  a  vision,  a  spirit  of  beauty, 
met  his  sight.  In  a  cove  of  the  wood-crowned 
hills,  he  saw  a  beautiful  maiden,  delicate  as  a 
lily,  and  nymph-like  in  form;  but  she  looked 
strangely  and  tragically  sad.  Her  eyes  were  large, 
and  blue,  yet  they  were  full  of  sadness.  Her 
mouth  had  the  sweet  curves  and  redness  of  youth, 
but  it  showed  an  expression  of  bitterness  and 
anguish,  as  of  deep  moral  suffering.  Her  face 
was  flushed,  and  her  bosom  rose  and  fell  as  in 
great  excitement.  On  the  golden-brown  waves  of 


18  Claudia  and  Anita 

her  hair  which,  like  a  tiara,  rested  on  her  lovely 
brow,  a  white  embroidered  crepe  shawl  was  fas 
tened  to  an  elaborate  coiffure  with  a  spray  of 
orange  blossms.  The  shawl  fell  over  her  arms 
and  partly  covered  them,  but  her  throat  and  chest 
were  bare.  Her  white  satin  dress  fell  in  soft  folds 
around  her  graceful  figure  while  white  satin  slip 
pers  covered  her  dainty  feet.  To  Claudio,  it  looked 
like  a  heavenly  scene.  At  sight  of  him,  the  maid 
en's  face  glowed  with  hope  and,  with  a  look  full 
of  entreaty,  she  sprang  lightly  forward  with  arms 
extended  toward  him.  Then  the  vision  swiftly 
faded.  Claudio  awoke,  thrilled  with  delight.  To 
him  it  looked  as  if  angels  had  lifted  the  veil  which 
hid  the  future. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  FEAST  OF  THE  HOLY  CROSS  AND 
ANITA 

IN  unseen  hand  seemed  to  have  waved  a 
wand,  transforming  him,  giving  him  a  com 
plete  change  of  heart  and  a  sense  of  joy. 
Raising  his  head  suddenly  he  saw  Father  Salvi- 
dea  standing  before  him.  He  arose  and,  impuls 
ively  taking  Father  Salvidea's  hand,  reverently 
touched  it  with  his  lips  and  told  him  that  he  was 
ready  to  take  up  the  work  assigned  to  him.  The 
Father,  rejoicing  at  the  change  which  had  come 


The  Feast  of  the  Holy  Cross  and  Anita     19 

over  Claudio,  gently  touched  him  on  the  shoulder 
and  said: 

"I  am  glad  of  your  decision,  my  son,  and  feel 
that  a  great  load  has  been  lifted  off  my  shoulders ; 
for  I  know  that  I  will  have  an  energetic  and  con 
genial  assistant  through  the  arduous  work  I  have 
undertaken." 

The  father  selected  a  bright  and  comely  youth 
for  Claudio's  attendant,  and  told  him  to  wait 
upon  Senor  Lopez,  and  serve  him  his  breakfast. 
With  light,  buoyant  steps,  Claudio  walked  to  his 
quarters,  which  were  dull,  but  spacious,  and  at 
another  time  would  have  depressed  him.  While 
the  page  went  to  fetch  his  chocolate  and  marque- 
sote,  he  stepped  out  into  the  open.  Recalling  his 
dream,  he  drew  a  long  breath  and  looked  towards 
the  mountains.  How  strange!  They  no  longer 
seem  to  him  grim  jailors,  but  fascinating  compan 
ions.  Every  rebellious  thought  which  had  been  in 
his  heart  when  he  arrived  in  the  mission,  and  all 
longing  to  return  home,  had  left  him  after  the 
sight  of  that  mystical  something. 

It  is  possible  that  Claudio's  sudden  change  of 
heart  had  resulted  from  the  vision  dream.  How 
ever,  all  sadness  had  left  his  mind,  and  the  sense 
of  a  new  emotion  gave  his  existence  a  novel 
charm,  awakening  a  mysterious  joy  within  him. 
Plans  were  made  for  his  survey  of  the  surround 
ing  country  the  following  morning,  the  trip  to  be 


20  Claudio  and  Anita 

made  on  horseback,  and  he  to  be  accompanied  by 
one  or  more  servants. 

Although  a  foundation  had  been  laid  at  the 
mission,  it  was  through  Father  Salvidea's  admin 
istration  that  the  Mission  San  Gabriel  attained  its 
maximum  of  prosperity.  Father  Salvidea  was 
gifted  with  a  powerful  and  masterful  mind,  in 
vesting  his  outward  appearance  with  a  spiritual 
grandeur,  a  striking  dignity  that  made  one,  for 
the  moment,  awed  in  his  presence ;  yet,  there  was  a 
courteous  friendliness  in  his  manner.  Though 
possessed  of  talents  and  eloquence  by  which  he 
could  have  attained  high  honors  in  his  native  land, 
he  devoted  his  life  to  the  upbuilding  of  the  coun 
try  within  his  domain;  and  to  christianizing  and 
civilizing  savage  Indians.  His  beneficence  was 
great,  for  he  not  only  fed  the  hungry  wanderer 
and  gave  him  a  clean  bed,  but  dispatched  him, 
accompanied  by  a  servant,  to  the  next  mission, 
with  bread  and  meat  in  his  wallet.  Father  Salvi 
dea  was,  indeed,  one  of  those  remarkable  men  who 
so  frequently  spring  up  among  the  religious  orders 
of  the  Church,  and  to  whose  outward  simplicity 
are  united  immense  energy  and  great  power  of 
mind.  His  perfect  life  made  people  speak  of  him 
as  they  would  of  a  saint, — with  love  and  rever 
ence.  It  was  told  of  him,  that  he  actually  per 
formed  miracles. 


Feast  of  the  Holy  Cross  and  Anita     21 

As  had  been  planned,  Claudio  and  a  servant 
rode  out  the  following  morning  to  view  the  sur 
rounding  country.  He  became  fascinated  with 
the  panorama.  The  grandeur  of  the  lofty  moun 
tains,  towering  above  the  sloping  hills  carpeted 
with  innumerable  flowers,  all  massed  together  in 
living  colors  of  pink,  white  and  blue,  and  poppies, 
which  lit  their  flanks  with  a  golden  hue,  especially 
attracted  him,  while  the  clear,  sweet  air,  with 
mingled  perfume  of  flowers,  charmed  his  senses. 
Moreover,  to  his  great  surprise,  he  saw  here  and 
there  some  well-kept  ranch-houses,  of  home-like 
appearance,  their  front  yards  swept  clean  as  a 
floor. 

Upon  his  return  to  the  mission,  he  related  to 
Father  Salvidea  what  he  had  seen.  The  father 
then  told  him  that  at  one  of  the  ranch-houses, 
named  La  Rosa  de  Castilla,  lived  a  Spanish  gen 
tleman,  with  his  wife  'and  only  daughter,  Anita. 
Next  week,  on  the  second  of  May, — that  being 
the  Feast  of  the  Holy  Cross  (La  Santa  Cruz), — 
there  was  to  be  a  gathering  at  La  Rosa  de  Castillo, 
of  the  surrounding  ranchers  to  celebrate  the  day. 
It  was  the  custom  to  gather  wild  flowers  to  deco 
rate  the  cross,  and  the  young  people  vied  with  each 
other  to  excel  in  the  beauty  of  the  decorations. 
Moreover,  Father  Salvidea  said  that  he  himself 
had  to  go  to  the  senor's  house  to  conduct  a  simple 
service  connected  with  the  day.  He  wished  Clau- 


22  Claudio  and  Anita 

dio  to  accompany  him,  in  order  to  make  him  ac 
quainted  with  the  senor  and  his  family. 

On  the  appointed  day,  both  Father  Salvidea 
and  Claudio  made  their  way  toward  La  Rosa  de 
Castillo.^  and  on  approaching  the  house  were  met 
by  the  senor,  the  father  introducing  Claudio.  The 
senor  at  once  recognized  in  him  a  noble  son  of 
Spain,  and  knew  his  worth.  Claudio  was  a  hand 
some  fellow,  tall,  well  built,  with  an  air  of  hau 
teur  notwithstanding  a  great  charm  of  manner, 
light-brown  hair,  fair  complexion,  and  large  gray 
eyes  full  of  fire.  Highly  accomplished  in  the  arts 
and  sciences,  his  early  reputation  of  skill  as  a 
fencer  and  equestrian  constituted  minor  distinc 
tions  to  his  growing  renown  as  a  writer.  His  ath 
letic  training  had  made  him  quick  in  action  and  as 
strong  and  supple  as  a  young  panther.  His  bear 
ing  was  manly  and  bold,  notwithstanding  his  re 
served  manner.  The  whole  mien  of  Claudio  bore, 
in  a  word,  that  indescribable  stamp  of  distinction 
that  seems  to  be  the  peculiar  quality  and  exclusive 
privilege  of  aristocratic  families. 

Father  Salvidea  spoke  of  Claudio's  mission,  and 
of  the  works  and  improvements  needed,  which 
soon  would  be  under  way.  The  senor  became  very 
much  interested,  and  offered  Claudio  the  hospi 
tality  of  his  house  as  a  resting-place  in  his  rounds 
in  the  mission  work.  The  house  was  indeed  an 
ideal  place  for  rest,  with  its  wide  veranda  extend- 


The  Feast  of  the  Holy  Cross  and  Anita     23 

ing  eighty  feet.  The  posts  were  overgrown  with 
the  passion  and  other  vines,  trained  to  represent 
arches.  The  walls  of  the  building  surrounded  a 
large  and  beautiful  court  yard.  Long  windows, 
broken  only  by  the  entrance  arch,  opened  on  the 
four  sides  of  the  veranda.  The  quadrangle  was  a 
a  maze  of  foliage  and  blossoms.  A  fountain  played 
in  the  center.  A  profusion  of  flowers,  Castilian 
roses,  jasmine,  marigolds  and  other  flowers  grew 
there.  The  gleam  of  golden  oranges  and  the  paler 
yellow  sweet  lime  hung  amid  the  glossy  foliage. 
The  very  air  was  intoxicating  with  the  fragrance 
of  the  flowers. 

Already  the  young  people,  sons  and  daughters 
of  the  few  families  who  had  come  with  the  mis 
sionaries, — those  from  far  and  near  had  arrived 
for  the  afternoon  function  of  the  Holy  Cross ;  but 
their  young  hostess,  Anita,  was  not  among  them, 
for  she  had  been  since  early  morning,  together 
with  her  duenna,  among  the  hills,  gathering  flow 
ers  for  the  fete.  Suddenly  Anita,  with  flushed 
and  animated  face  sparkling  with  joy,  her  arms 
loaded  with  flowers  and  ferns,  rode  into  the 
courtyard,  leaped  with  nymph-like  grace  from 
her  saddle,  deposited  the  flowers  on  a  table,  and 
greeted  the  young  girls  who  flocked  around  her 
with  an  embrace.  Senor  Cota,  with  Father  Salvi- 
dea  and  Cl audio,  approached  the  happy  crowd 
and  in  a  caressing  tone  called,  "Anita,  vida  mia, 


24  Claudio  and  Anita 

ven  aca!"  and  introduced  Claudio.  With  courtly 
mien  the  latter  bowed  and,  with  a  start,  eagerly 
looked  into  the  beautiful  girl's  eyes.  Confused, 
and  in  doubt,  he  thought,  "Where,  where  have 
I  seen  that  face?"  Anita's  eyes  lowered.  Again 
their  eyes  met,  and  unconsciously  they  were  held 
by  exchanged  glances.  Then  each  read  in  the 
other's  eyes  the  mutual  understanding  of  a  love 
that  comes  from  soul  to  soul  at  first  sight,  little 
realizing  the  pangs  and  heart-rending  scenes  that 
love  would  bring  into  their  lives. 


CHAPTER  III. 

CLAUDIO  AND  ANITA  PLEDGE  THEIR 
TROTH 

[T  the  end  of  a  year,  much  had  been  done 
toward  improving  conditions  around  San 
Gabriel  Mission.  The  flour-mill  was  well 
under  construction,  and  the  aqueduct  which  was 
to  furnish  water  to  operate  the  mill  was  com 
pleted.  The  wheat  fields  in  the  valley,  the  corn 
fields,  the  vegetable  gardens  adjacent  to  the  mis 
sion,  all  bore  eloquent  evidence  of  what  had  been 
accomplished  within  the  year.  Under  Claudio's 
stern,  but  considerate  management  all  was  pro 
gressing  satisfactorily.  So  matters  crept  along. 
Claudio  had  declared  his  love  to  Anita,  but  both 


Claudio  and  Anita  Pledge  their  ^froth     25 

kept  the  secret  within  their  hearts,  something  mak 
ing  them  conscious  of  a  fate  that  might  part  them. 

It  was  a  year  later,  again  the  first  of  May,  the 
day  before  the  Feast  of  the  Holy  Cross.  The 
young  people  and  their  duennas  had  met  at  a 
cove  in  the  hills,  and,  having  agreed  to  meet  there 
again  before  starting  for  home,  had  separated,  to 
gather  their  flowers  on  the  sloping  hills.  It  was 
late  in  the  afternoon.  The  lights  of  the  setting 
sun  on  the  Pacific  appeared  like  flaming  gold. 
Snow-capped  San  Antonio  made  a  background  of 
topaz,  and  threw  a  shade  of  amethyst  on  the  sur 
rounding  peaks.  These,  together  with  the  sun- 
kissed  hills,  made  a  great  contrast  to  the  emerald- 
shaded  valley  below.  Such  was  the  appearance 
of  the  landscape  from  that  beautiful  spot.  Claudio 
and  Anita  stood  enraptured  at  the  magnificent 
panorama. 

Suddenly  Claudio  looked  around  with  a  start. 
Where  were  the  others'?  No  one  was  in  sight. 
"We  must  hasten  to  the  rendezvous,"  he  said.  The 
shadows  began  to  deepen,  but  the  atmosphere  was 
so  clear  that  myriads  of  stars  could  be  discerned 
shining  into  limitless  space.  A  bright  moon  began 
to  silver  the  tips  of  the  trees.  Nature  exhaled  a 
poetic  splendor,  and  all  things  seemed  to  intone  a 
hymn  to  the  Creator  with  that  silent  music  heard 
only  by  the  spirit.  The  mission  bells  were  ringing 
the  Angelus,  and  their  silvery  chimes  echoed 


26  Claudio  and  Anita 

through  the  trees  like  the  trill  of  a  bird.  Claudio 
uncovered  and  lowered  his  head,  and  he  and  Anita 
repeated,  with  profound  devotion,  the  Angelus. 
Finishing  the  prayer,  they  hurried  on,  passing 
through  the  most  enchanting  scenery.  Majestic 
oaks  stood  by  the  crystal  waters,  countless  num 
bers  of  glow-worms  shone  like  diamonds  among 
the  grass  and  wild  flowers,  and  wild  roses  without 
number  perfumed  the  air  with  their  rich  fra 
grance. 

Claudio  walked  on  in  silence,  the  beauty  of  the 
place  and  the  constant  sight  of  the  lovely  girl  who 
moved  by  his  side,  making  his  heart  thrill,  and  he 
felt  himself  swayed  and  vanquished  by  the  volup 
tuousness  of  Nature  in  those  favored  regions.  For 
was  not  this  marvelously  beautiful  and  princely 
domain  his  own*?  The  king's  grant  to  these  lands 
had  just  the  day  before  been  given  him,  in  recom 
pense  for  his  faithful  services  to  the  mission  and 
the  king.  Hastening  on,  Claudio  and  Anita  finally 
reached  the  rendezvous,  but  found  no  one  there. 
"They  must  have  lost  their  way,"  said  Anita. 
"We  will  wait  just  a  little  while,  and,  if  they  do 
not  come,  I  will  take  thee  home,"  said  Claudio, 
gravely. 

"No,  no,"  said  Anita,  "I  will  sing.  My  voice: 
will  echo  through  the  mountain,  and  we  will  build 
a  fire  and  let  it  flame  up  as  a  signal  to  them." 


Claudia  and  Anita  Pledge  their  ^roth     27 

They  built  the  fire,  then,  and  both  found  a  seat 
on  a  log  near  by.  Anita  had  been  very  quiet,  but 
now  she  burst  forth  in  one  of  her  frolicsome 
moods.  Looking  up  at  the  sky,  she  said:  "The 
moon  is  shining  bright;  let  us  dance  while  they 
come." 

"My  little  wild  flower,"  said  Claudio,  with 
an  amused  smile,  "I  cannot  dance." 

"Oh,  it  is  easy,  see,"  and  she  held  the  front  of 
her  dress  with  both  hands,  just  displaying  her 
pretty  feet,  and  with  the  utmost  grace  glided  back 
and  forth,  bending  and  swaying;  yet  she  could 
have  balanced  a  glass  of  water  on  her  head  with 
out  spilling  a  drop. 

Suddenly  she  stopped  dancing,  and  coming  to 
where  Claudio  was  sitting,  encircled  his  arm  with 
her  hands.  Anita's  moods  changed  rapidly  from 
a  frolicsome  spirit  to  a  pensiveness  which  gave 
softness  to  her  manner  and  added  charm  to  her 
beauty.  But  fascinating  as  was  her  personality,  it 
was  the  varied  expression  of  her  countenance,  as 
her  moods  changed,  that  threw  such  a  captivating 
charm  around  her.  With  a  sad  expression  on  her 
upturned  face,  she  questioned,  "I  wonder  what  the 
world  will  be  a  hundred  years  from  now?  Our 
world,  here  on  the  coast,"  she  said,  with  emphasis. 

"I  will  tell  thee,  cara  mia,  while  thou  art  in  a 
serious  mood,"  said  Claudio,  taking  up  Anita's 
shawl  and  fastening  it  gently  under  her  chin,  say- 


28  Claudio  and  Anita 

ing,  at  the  same  time,  that  the  dew  was  falling  and 
was  making  the  air  chilly. 

"Anita,  dearest,"  he  repeated,  "thou  knowest 
my  mission  here,  the  work  I  was  called  into  this 
land  to  do  in  co-operation  with  our  most  saintly 
Father  Salvidea.  Myself  and  others  will  make 
this  favored  spot  of  California,  'our  world',  as 
thou  sayest,  as  beautiful  as  the  far-famed  Atlan 
tis.  We  will  build  roads  to  reach  its  echanting 
nooks  and  commercial  ports;  we  will  till  the  soil, 
plant  trees  and  flowers;  we  will  build  lakes  and 
fountains,  whose  shimmering  and  sparkling  wa 
ters  will  reflect  the  choicest  of  flowers  and  fruits 
from  all  climes ;  we  will  dazzle  the  world  with  its 
grandeur !  Brave  and  zealous  heroes,  in  the  name 
of  civilization  and  Christianity,  have  laid  its  foun 
dation;  we  will  build  it  up  in  splendor!" 

He  was  tense  with  energy  and  emotion.  With  a 
quick  glance  over  the  sloping  valley,  he  contin 
ued,  "Our  flag  shall  ride  the  seas,  far  out  to  our 
mother-land,  illustrious  Spain,  proclaiming  to  her 
that  we  have  made  this  privileged  spot  ready  for 
her  sons, — yea,  for  her  adopted  sons  also !  A  gen 
eration  will  rise,  and  send  world-wide  praises  of 
the  deeds  of  her  brave  heroes  who  first  raised  the 
cross,  emblem  of  Christianity,  on  this  coast,  and 
taught  the  savages  to  bend  the  knee  before  the 
Holy  Cross  in  reverence  to  the  Divine  Being.  Peo 
ples  from  the  four  corners  of  the  world  shall  min- 


Claudio  and  Anita  Pledge  their  tfroth     29 

gle  in  friendly  communion,  and  spires  and  domes 
shall  pierce  the  clouds,  a  hundred  years  from 
now !" 

Anita  was  awed  at  Claudio's  outburst  of  emo 
tion,  and  exclaimed,  "Claudio,  Claudio,  what  art 
thou  saying*?"  "Giving  vent  to  the  yearnings  and 
ambitions  of  my  heart,  dearest,"  he  answered, 
"also  communicating  to  you  the  vision  I  have  had 
of  this  blessed  land.  I  cannot  find  words  to  speak 
my  soul's  delight;  but  with  thee  by  my  side  I  will 
work  incessantly  to  make  this  spot  worthy  of  the 
name  I  will  give  it.  I  am  confident  of  success.  All 
will  be  dedicated  to  thee,  my  love,  and  on  the 
happy  day  when  I  shall  call  thee  my  own,  then 
thou  wilt  be  mistress  of  this  beautiful  spot." 

Taking  hold  of  both  her  little  hands,  he  touched 
them  with  his  lips,  continuing,  "Anita,  wilt  thou 
consent  to  be  my  wife  in  six  months  from  now? 
We  expect  the  mission  ship,  in  which  our  house 
hold  goods  are  coming,  also  some  family  jewels, 
to  arrive  in  three  months.  As  thou  knowest,  I  am 
the  eldest  of  my  two  brothers.  Wilt  thou  promise 
me?  My  love  for  thee,  sweetheart,  is  as  pure  as 
the  snow  on  yonder  peak.  For  thee,  I  would  give 
my  life  many  times  over.  Little  one,  look  up  and 
answer  me, — tell  me  thou  lovest  me." 

With  both  hands  encircling  his  arm,  the  slender 
girl  lifted  her  face  toward  his  and  said,  "I  love 
thee,  Claudio.  In  this  life  and  after  death  my 


30  Claudio  and  Anita 

love  will  still  abide,  and  I  promise  to  be  thy  wife 
in  six  months  from  now,  with  my  parents'  con 
sent."  In  that  radiant  uplifted  face,  young  Clau 
dio  saw  that  her  words  had  come  from  the  inner 
recesses  of  her  heart. 

"A  kiss,  my  beloved,"  he  cried,  "to  bind  this 
immortal  love."  She  did  not  move,  but  looked 
straight  into  his  eyes,  with  trustful  consent.  He 
took  the  beloved  face  in  both  his  hands,  and  gently 
pressed  her  soft  lips  with  his  as  a  sacred  seal  of 
their  solemn  vows.  The  twilight  pervaded  the 
surrounding  hills,  the  air,  which  had  been  still, 
rang  with  bird  music,  bursting  around  them  from 
thicket,  trees  and  glades,  in  heavenly  trills,  sweet 
and  rare.  Just  then,  as  dusk  was  enveloping  the 
valley,  they  heard  the  voices  of  their  companions, 
nearing;  Soila,  Anita's  duenna,  calling  out  loud 
er  than  the  others.  When  she  came  near,  she  threw 
her  arms  around  Anita,  crying  hysterically  with 
joy,  as  Anita  and  Claudio  had  been  lost  for  some 
time,  and  their  companions  had  been  frantically 
calling  and  searching  for  them. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SATAN  INCARNATE  WORKS  HIS 
WILES" 

[HE  Mission  San  Gabriel  was  now  a  mar 
vel  of  beauty  and  order.  Large  vineyards 
had  been  planted,  intersected  with  fine 
walks,  shaded  by  fruit  trees  of  every  descrip 
tion,  and  rendered  still  more  lovely  by  shrubbery. 
The  aqueduct  and  mill  were  built.  Hedges  of 
rose-bushes  were  planted,  trees  were  growing  in 
the  mission  square,  with  a  flower  garden  and  an 
hour-dial  in  the  center.  Father  Salvidea  also  re 
modeled  the  existent  system  of  government.*  Every 
article  must  henceforth  be  in  place  and  every  man 
at  his  station.  The  people  had  been  divided  into 
classes,  according  to  their  vocations.  Large  shops 
had  been  created  for  the  trades,  and  also  large 
spinning-rooms,  where  might  be  seen  some  sixty 
women  merrily  turning  their  spindles.  Then  large 
storerooms  were  allotted  to  the  various  articles, 
which  were  kept  separate.  Sugar-cane,  flax  and 
hemp  were  added  to  the  articles  being  cultivated, 
but  cotton  and  wool  were  imported. 

A  principal  head,  majordomo,  commanded  and 
superintended  over  all.  Claudio  Lopez  was  the 
famed  one  during  Father  Salvidea's  administra 
tion  ;  and,  although  executing  the  priest's  plans,  in 

31 


32  Claudio  and  Anita 

the  minds  of  the  people  he  was  the  real  hero.  Ask 
anyone  to  this  day  who  did  this,  or  made  that,  and 
the  answer  on  all  sides  is  the  same:  "El  difunto 
Claudio'''  And  great  credit  was  his  for  carrying 
out  the  numerous  works  under  his  supervision 
without  flogging. 

There  were  a  great  many  other  majordomos 
under  him  for  all  kinds  of  work,  from  the  keep 
ers  of  the  aquariums  to  the  superintendency  of 
crops,  vineyards  and  gardens.  The  best  looking 
youths  were  kept  as  pages ;  those  of  most  musical 
talent  were  reserved  for  church  service.  The  un 
married  women  and  girls  were  kept  as  nuns  under 
the  supervision  of  an  abbess,  who  slept  with  them 
in  a  large  room ;  their  occupations  were  various ;  in 
fact,  they  had  no  trade  in  particular. 

During  his  pastorate,  Father  Salvidea  mastered 
the  Indian  language  and  reduced  it  to  grammat 
ical  rules,  being  the  first  father  in  this  section  to 
undertake  such  a  task.  He  translated  the  church 
service,  and  preached  to  the  Indians  each  Sabbath 
in  their  native  tongue. 

In  the  meantime,  Don  Mishel,  a  Frenchman  of 
polished  manner  and  handsome  bearing,  had  seen 
the  happy  and  frolicsome  Anita  and  fell  desper 
ately  in  love  with  her.  Who  this  man  was,  no  one 
pretended  to  know,  or  at  least  asserted  with  posi- 
tiveness.  It  was  whispered,  however,  that  he  was 


"A  Satan  Incarnate  Works  His  Wiles"     33 

one  of  La  Perouse's  company  of  scientificos,  that 
were  exploring  the  Coast  in  the  interest  of  the 
French  government,  and  who,  with  seven  others, 
escaped  in  a  boat  from  one  of  the  explorer's  ships 
and,  on  landing,  were  attacked  by  the  Indians, 
he  alone  escaping  death. 

However,  there  was  a  deep  mystery  about  this 
man  who,  wherever  he  went,  created  a  sensation, 
by  his  appearance  and  manner.  His  mien,  in  gen 
eral,  was  simple,  yet  he  was  capable  of  deceiving 
the  most  clever  lawyer. 

How  to  penetrate  the  family  circle  was  a  prob 
lem  he  had  to  face ;  but  he  would  master  the  situa 
tion;  he  would  gain  his  heart's  desire.  But  first 
of  all,  Claudio  must  get  out  of  his  way,  so 
straightaway  he  set  himself  into  finding  some  ac 
cusation  he  might  bring  against  the  mission  gov 
ernment  and  thereby  incite  the  people  into  mak 
ing  a  complaint  that  would  necessitate  a  courier 
being  sent  to  the  governor.  Such  a  duty,  he  knew, 
would  fall  to  Claudio. 

Being  a  man  of  pleasing  manner  and  address, 
he  in  the  most  subtle  way  went  about  gaining  the 
confidence  of  the  better  families,  and,  to  better 
obtain  his  object,  assumed  the  great  prerogative  of 
defending  their  rights.  Claiming  to  espouse  their 
cause,  he  told  them  the  padres  of  San  Gabriel  had 
dammed  up  the  river,  thus  cutting  off  their  supply 

*  Warner's  History  of  Los  Angeles  County. 


34  Claudio  and  Anita 

of  water;  that  the  padres  refused  to  attend  to  the 
spiritual  needs  of  their  sick,  and  spent  too  much 
of  their  time,  with  their  pleasure-loving  major- 
domo,  in  feasting  and  entertaining;  also,  that  the 
neophytes  were  made  to  work  like  beasts,  and  were 
flogged  most  brutally.  These  and  similar  com 
plaints  were  written  out  and  signed  by  the  major 
ity  of  the  people,  and  dispatched  to  the  governor. 
In  due  time  a  courier  arrived  at  the  mission,  bring 
ing  with  him  the  papers  concerning  these  accusa 
tions,  and  demanding  an  explanation. 

Father  Salvidea  often  went  to  solitary  parts  of 
the  mountains,  partly  to  divert  his  thoughts  by  the 
sublime  aspect  of  Nature,  and  to  strengthen  him 
self  by  prayer  and  meditation.  After  one  of  these 
rambles,  and,  as  he  approached  the  mission,  the 
servant  waiting  at  the  gate  gave  him  the  packet 
which  had  been  sent  by  the  governor.  This  he 
opened,  and  was  dumfounded  by  its  contents.  Al 
most  senseless,  he  dropped  the  preposterous  let 
ters,  but  soon  recovered  himself,  picked  them  up, 
and  went  to  his  cell  to  read  them  more  calmly. 

Father  Salvidea,  who  had  a  masterful  way  of 
going  about  things  and  was  usually  calm  during 
stress,  immediately  summoned  Claudio,  but  on 
this  occasion  Claudio  could  see  plainly  that  the 
father  was  worried, — a  circumstance  very  unusual 
with  him, — as  he  related  what  had  happened.  He 
told  Claudio  he  realized  the  fact  that  someone  was 


"A  Satan  Incarnate  Works  His  Wiles"     35 

endeavoring  to  make  them  tools  for  the  accom 
plishment  of  an  ambition  or  device. 

"No  doubt,  father,"  said  Claudio,  "someone  is 
jealous  of  our  success,  and  would  upset  our  glori 
ous  plans;  but,"  he  continued,  "I  doubt  not  the 
matter  can  be  explained  satisfactorily  to  the  gov 
ernor," — as  he  (Claudio)  had  not  heard  of  any 
complaints  among  the  neophytes,  nor  any  irregu 
larities  whatever.  The  neophytes  were  docile, 
obedient,  and  worked  cheerfully  and  well.  The 
mill  would  soon  be  ready  to  turn  out  flour,  and 
the  people  were  happy  in  anticipation  of  its 
completion,  as  it  would  furnish  work  to  the  idle 
men. 

"That  is  well,  my  son,"  said  Father  Salvidea. 
"But  of  this  trouble !  Thou  canst  never  tell  what 
little  cloud  of  dissention  may  turn  into  a  roaring 
tempest."  Not  until  sometime  afterwards  did 
Claudio  remember  the  words  of  the  father, — 
not  until  that  little  cloud  became  a  full-fleged 
thunderstorm. 

"Peace  and  order  have  been  well  kept,"  said 
the  father,  "but  despite  all  these,  trouble-makers 
are  trying  to  make  disturbance,  whatever  their 
motive.  But,  Claudio,"  he  continued,  "thou  wilt 
realize  that  there  is  greater  seriousness  at  the  bot 
tom  of  this  than  mere  complaint.  'Tis  a  hellish 
plot !  The  work  of  a  satan  incarnate  that  is  work 
ing  his  wiles  among  the  people.  He  shall  be 


36  Claudio  and  Anita 

thwarted  in  his  purpose!"  and  father  Salvidea 
stood  up,  and  brought  his  fist  down  upon  the 
table. 

After  that  he  became  calmer,  and  turning  to 
Claudio  continued:  "My  son,  thou  must  take  this 
matter  before  the  governor.  No  one  could  do  it 
in  a  more  fitting  manner.  It  will  take  some  weeks, 
it  is  true,  but  with  God's  help  the  work  will  go 
on  well  while  thou  art  away.  I  will  get  the  answer 
to  the  charges  ready.  Start  tomorrow  morning.  I 
have  sent  a  messenger  to  Port  San  Pedro.  The 
ship  will  be  ready  to  take  to  sea  by  tomorrow 
evening." 

A  sense  of  impending  trouble  weighed  upon 
Claudio's  spirit,  but  he  could  offer  no  excuse; 
besides,  he  must  obey  orders.  Taking  leave  of 
Father  Salvidea,  and,  with  his  blessing,  he  left  to 
make  ready  for  his  journey.  He  soon  made  his 
way  to  the  Rosa  de  Castilla,  to  take  leave  of  Senor 
and  Senora  Cota  and,  what  was  uppermost  in  his 
heart,  to  see  Anita  and  renew  their  vows. 

As  he  took  leave  of  her  parents,  Anita  followed 
him  out  to  the  court  garden.  "Must  you  go,  caro 
mio?"  asked  Anita. 

"I  must,"  replied  Claudio;  "it  is  my  duty.  And 
thy  love,  Anita,  the  sweetest,  the  tenderest,  that 
ever  ennobled  the  heart  of  man,  will  put  strength 
into  me  for  the  arduous  task  that  is  before  me." 

Grasping  both  her  hands  in  his,  he  pressed  them 


"A  Satan  Incarnate  Works  His  Wiles"     37 

to  his  heart;  his  arms  went  around  her,  and  with 
her  head  leaning  against  his  breast,  he  said: 
"Anita,  swear  again  you  will  be  faithful  to  me !" 
"I  am  thine,  now,  and  forever!"  she  pledged, 
as  she  raised  her  lovely  eyes  to  his,  and  the  radi 
ance  of  her  beautiful  face  was  reflected  in  the 
moon-touched  crown  of  her  golden  hair,  making 
a  picture  that  forever  was  engraved  upon  her 
lover's  heart. 

Back  in  his  apartment,  Cl  audio  gave  his  atten 
dant,  Gregorio,  directions  for  packing  the  gold- 
fringed  cloak,  the  embroidered  waistcoat,  the  slip 
pers,  and  the  garters.  "I  must  make  a  fitting  ap 
pearance  before  the  governor,"  he  mused. 

The  faint  color  of  dawn  was  showing  in  the 
eastern  sky,  when  he  was  up,  and  ready  for  his 
journey. 

Claudio  ordered  his  horse  brought  around, — a 
spirited  chestnut  bay,  Retinto,  that  arched  its 
neck  proudly  when  its  master  mounted,  but  would 
permit  no  other  living  being  upon  its  back.  He 
examined  the  bridle  and  the  saddle,  ordered  the 
girth  tightened,  and,  swinging  into  his  saddle, 
drove  Retinto  into  a  fast  speed  toward  the  mill, 
his  attendant  and  groom  following.  At  the  upper 
end  of  the  reservoir  he  reined  in  his  horse  to  ex 
amine  the  lower  banks  and '  outlets  of  the  dam, 
and,  seeing  that  everything  was  in  perfect  con 
dition,  turned  towards  his  destination. 


38  Claudio  and  Anita 

The  rode  through  a  forest  of  lordly  oaks,  along 
the  foot  of  the  mountains, — these  were  within  the 
lines  of  his  grant, — and  passed  out  into  the  open. 
The  sun  had  just  risen  over  the  mountain  tops, 
deluging  and  dazzling  the  valley  with  its  beams, 
and  reflecting  its  rosy  light  upon  the  little  lakes 
in  the  coves  of  the  hills,  which  were  bordered  with 
white  and  the  blue  forget-me-nots.  The  gentle 
slopes  over  which  they  rode  appeared  as  a  gor 
geous  wild-flower  garden, — asters,  yellow  and 
white,  blue  larkspurs,  monk's  hoods,  lupines,  white 
and  blue,  alder,  wild  lilac  (la  concha  del  agua, 
this  the  natives  used  to  ward  off  fevers,  a  few 
stalks  thrown  in  the  olla  of  drinking  water  making 
it  as  bitter  as  quinine),  the  golden  poppy  and 
white  sage,  all  in  riotous  flowering. 

Claudio  took  off  his  hat,  and  the  delicious  air, 
fragrant  from  myriads  of  blossoms,  played  through 
his  hair.  The  beams  of  the  rising  sun,  now  sub 
dued,  fell  over  the  valley,  its  tints  growing  softer 
and  blending  more  and  more  in  the  distance,  until 
they  melted  into  a  soft,  blue-lilac  haze.  It  was  a 
magic  scene,  one  to  which  the  pen  can  not  do 
justice, — the  mountains,  towering  supremely 
grand,  beneath,  a  glimpse  of  Paradise,  and  be 
yond,  a  rolling  country,  mostly  tulle,  but  lush 
with  alfilaria  (pin  grass),  which  afforded  abun 
dant  feed  for  the  heards  of  cattle. 

The  sun  was  yet  young  in  the  sky  when  the 


"A  Satan  Incarnate  Works  His  Wiles"     39 

riders  passed  through  El  Pueblo  de  Nuestra  Senora 
de  Los  Angeles.  Then  they  came  to  great  fields 
of  blossoming  mustard,  over  which  the  shining 
sun  cast  a  yellow  tint.  Among  the  mustard  were 
big  patches  of  ripe  blackberries,  and  here  the  trav 
elers  stopped,  to  refresh  themselves  with  the  lus 
cious  fruit.  Continuing,  they  reached  the  embar- 
cadero  before  sundown,  and  Claudio,  with  his 
attendant,  immediately  made  his  way  to  the  ship, 
the  groom  returning  to  the  mission  with  the  horses. 


CHAPTER  V. 

OUTLAWS  PLY  THEIR  NEFARIOUS 
VOCATION 

GAIN  it  is  sun  up,  and  the  Alba  is  ring 
ing,  Father  Salvidea,  being  charged  with 
mission  duties,  which  claim  entirely  his 
becalmed  energies.  Again  he  officiates  at  the  holy 
altar.  The  mission  is  filled  with  worshippers.  The 
holy  candles,  yellowing  in  the  sunlight,  glow  pre 
ternatural  light  which,  reflecting  on  stately  walls 
and  the  holy  altar,  reveals  statues,  pictures,  carv 
ings,  sacred  vessels,  and  gorgeous  vestments,  —  old 
masterpieces  from  Catholic  Europe.  In  the  midst 
of  this  hallowed,  beautiful  place,  the  worshipers 
are  kneeling,  absorbed,  heart,  mind  and  soul,  in 
the  solemn  mass. 


40  Claudio  and  Anita 

After  mass,  all  breakfast.  Then  the  vast  army 
of  Indians,  learning  various  trades,  crafts  and  arts, 
swarm  into  the  workshops  or  foundaries.  The 
great  patio  is  filled  with  hundreds  of  singing 
women  and  girls  weaving,  spinning  or  carding 
wool,  while  a  large  number  of  men  and  boys  ride 
away  on  horseback  to  the  cattle  ranches,  sheep 
ranges  and  wine  presses,  or  to  the  grain  fields, 
gardens  and  orchards  of  the  mission  itself  and 
the  mission  ranches  adjacent;  a  favored  people, 
well  on  the  way  to  realizing  the  joy  and  the  power 
of  creating  all  the  necessities  for  a  comfortable 
living.  By  these  means,  the  Indians  were  indi 
vidually  awakened,  for  the  first  time,  to  civilizing 
and  cultural  influences. 

Shortly  after  Claudio's  departure  on  his  mission, 
Anita's  father  met  with  a  heavy  loss  through  the 
defalcation  of  a  neighbor,  a  foreigner  for  whom 
he  had  gone  security.  Matters  went  from  bad  to 
worse  and  to  such  an  extent  that  he  was  given  so 
many  days  in  which  to  give  up  his  home.  Don 
Mishel's  opportunity  had  come  sooner  than  he  had 
expected. 

On  the  eve  of  the  family's  evacuation,  when  all 
were  in  despair,  the  Frenchman  called  to  offer 
Senor  Cota  his  assistance,  at  the  same  time  pre 
dicting  that  in  the  natural  course  of  events  the 
foreigners,  through  fraud  and  trick,  would  soon 
come  into  possession  of  all  the  land.  He  offered 


Outlaws  Ply  their  Nefarious   Vocation     41 

the  senor  his  note  for  ten  thousand  dollars;  he 
(Cota),  in  return,  to  transfer  to  him  (Mishel),  his 
lands,  stock  and  home,  as  he  (Mishel)  would  be 
better  able  to  cope  with  the  situation,  and  prom 
ised  the  senor  to  return  the  deeds  when  conditions 
became  more  settled,  and  the  senor  could  then 
return  his  note.  His  mind  laboring  under  the 
strained  condition  of  the  shock,  Senor  Cota  readily 
accepted  the  offer.  After  this,  the  Frenchman's 
wealth  increased  rapidly,  while  the  senor  contin 
ued  to  meet  with  serious  financial  losses. 

Thirty  miles  away,  in  the  deep  recesses  of  the 
mountains,  in  a  deep,  high-walled  valley,  a  band 
of  robbers  were  eating  their  supper  around  a  camp- 
fire.  Their  horses,  all  saddled,  ready  for  a  hasty 
departure,  were  tied  a  short  distance  away.  A 
fearless  horseman  was  riding  towards  them  with 
great  speed.  Breasting  the  dizzy  cliffs  over  the 
treacherous  boulders,  scaling  precipitous  ravines, 
his  horse  sliding  over  the  almost  perpendicular 
sides,  he  soon  approached  the  camp.  All  arose  and 
hailed  their  chief,  who  at  once  fell  into  earnest 
conversation  with  the  captain  of  the  band,  Sepul- 
veda,  saying: 

"Take  the  speediest  horse  in  the  band,  ride  like 
the  wind;  burn  the  ranch-house  of  old  Cota,  and 
return  there  by  daybreak, — 100  mrles  in  ten 
hours!" 

Sepulveda  at  once  started  on  his  wild  ride.   He 


42  Cl  audio  and  Anita 

plied  cuarta  and  spur,  and  urged  his  horse  on  and 
on,  through  canyons  and  mountain  trails.  As  he 
approached  the  ranch-house  his  horse  fell  dead  at 
the  very  threshold,  but  he  left  the  house  in  ashes. 

Walking  six  miles  to  a  neighboring  ranch,  he 
got  a  fresh  horse,  returned  to  the  robbers'  camp 
as  ordered,  and  reported  to  his  chief.  Giving  direc" 
tions  for  the  next  move,  the  chief  waved  his  hand 
to  his  men,  and  rode  away  in  another  direction. 

On  the  front  porch  of  one  of  the  neat  ranch- 
houses  which  dotted  the  foothills  of  Santa  Susana, 
sat  Dona  Maria,  deftly  working  some  fancy  stich- 
es  on  a  child's  woolen  dress.  Three  persons,  two 
men  and  a  woman,  rode  up.  They  asked  if  her 
husband  was  at  home,  and  were  told  that  her 
husband  was  down  in  the  field,  but  would  come 
home  at  supper-time.  They  then  brought  out  a 
map,  spread  it  on  the  table,  and  asked  if  she  could 
locate  for  them  a  certain  canyon.  She  could  plain 
ly  see  by  the  spot  marked  on  the  map  that  the 
canyon  was  back  of  the  house,  not  far  up  the  hill. 
They  then  told  her  that  a  relative  of  theirs,  who 
had  died  in  Paris,  left  them  the  map,  telling  them 
that  a  rich  treasure  was  buried  there  (pointing 
to  the  mark  on  the  map) ;  that  if  her  husband 
would  take  them  to  the  spot,  and  help  them  dig 
the  treasure,  they  would  give  him  a  share.  They 
were  the  legal  heirs,  they  said. 

Dona  Maria  invited  them  to  come  in  and  rest 


Outlaws  Ply  their  Nefarious  Vocation     43 

until  her  husband  came  home,  when  they  all  could 
have  supper.  She  ordered  the  cook  to  kill  two 
chickens,  which  were  prepared  with  rice,  a  favorite 
Spanish  dish.  When  her  husband  came,  supper 
was  served.  All  ate  hurriedly,  and  were  soon  ready 
to  go  and  dig  up  the  treasure.  The  woman  of  the 
party  asked  Dona  Maria  to  accompany  them, 
but  she  replied  that  she  would,  after  arranging 
the  china  and  putting  her  children  to  bed. 

While  busy  with  her  china,  something  very 
strange  happened :  she  heard  a  great  rush  of  wind, 
and  a  voice  close  to  her  said,  "Cuidado,  cuidado" 
Looking  around,  she  saw  no  one,  but  the  incident 
was  repeated  three  times,  and  each  time  the  voice 
was  more  audible. 

Becoming  frightened,  and  believing  that  some 
supernatural  power  was  warning  her,  her  first 
thought,  mother-like,  was  of  her  children.  She 
rushed  to  their  bed,  and  with  the  dishcloth  still 
grasped  tightly  in  her  hands,  knelt  by  their  side, 
and  in  a  loud  voice  implored  Heaven  to  protect 
her  and  her  children. 

While  in  this  attitude,  Dona  Maria  heard  a 
loud  noise,  as  of  a  band  of  horses  coming  down  the 
canyon.  As  it  drew  nearer,  she  turned,  and  saw  her 
husband  and  the  foreigners,  their  faces  blanched 
with  terror.  In  gasping  words  they  told  her  that 
something  terrible  had  happened.  As  their  tools 
struck  a  hard  substance,  the  sound  of  precious 


44  Claudio  and  Anita 

metal  came  distinctly  to  their  ears.  Strange  whis 
perings  and  mutterings  became  audible;  these 
gradually  passed  into  groans  and  shrieks  and  other 
diabolical  sounds;  but  the  chief  place  of  com 
motion  was  under  the  ground,  just  under  the  boxes 
that  contained  the  treasure.  Then  came  a  rush  of 
wind  that  swept  along  with  terrific  force,  whist 
ling  and  howling,  bending  the  branches  of  the 
trees  above  them,  then  rushing  through  the 
grounds,  raising  great  clouds  of  dust  and  gravel, 
striking  them  on  the  eyes,  almost  blinding  them. 
At  the  same  time  they  heard  a  rumbling  sound  as 
of  thunder  which  seemed  to  sink  into  the  very 
earth,  and  through  the  blackness  of  the  night 
and  uproar,  the  sound  of  voices,  as  if  coming  from 
the  ground  beneath  their  feet,  pierced  into  their 
ears,  saying:  "The  penalty  of  death  to  those  who 
disturb  this  treasure.  Beware!  Beware!"  In  terror 
the  men  dropped  their  tools,  grabbed  their  coats 
and  ran  toward  the  house  at  great  speed,  soundly 
frightened.  The  foreigners  left  that  same  night 
saying:  "No  treasure,  however  rich,  would  make 
us  go  through  that  experience  again.  Let  the  devil 
keep  the  treasure." 

(Author's  Note — These  gusts  of  wind  and  the 
unearthly  voices  were  made  with  an  instrument 
of  the  operator's  own  invention,  he  being  an  al 
chemist  as  well  as  a  ventriloquist.) 


CHAPTER  VI. 
"MY  WORD,  IT  CANNOT  BE  RECALLED" 

| WO  or  three  days  after  this,  Dona  Maria, 
as  usual,  was  sitting  on  the  porch,  sewing. 
on  Mischel  rode  up,  and  with  a  smirking 
smile  asked  how  much  of  the  treasure  her  husband 
had  received  from  the  foreigners  as  his  share  for 
his  work.  She  related  to  him  what  had  happened. 

"Well,  well,"  he  said,  "those  foreigners  are 
much  too  smart  for  any  of  us.  They  came  back 
during  the  night  and  carried  off  the  treasure,  and 
beat  Manuel  out  of  his  share.  Go  to  the  place  and 
see." 

She  went,  and  saw  two  empty  boxes,  such  as 
held  one  hundred  one-pound  bars  of  soap.  On  one 
was  stamped,  "50-dollar  gold  pieces,"  and  on  the 
other,  "silver  dollars."  The  marks  on  the  boxes 
showed  they  had  been  filled  to  the  top. 

When  Don  Mishel  returned  to  San  Gabriel,  he 
found  the  little  town  in  a  state  of  great  excite 
ment.  He  was  told  that  Senor  Cota  had  received 
bad  news;  that  his  ranch-house  had  been  burned 
to  the  ground  with  all  the  treasures  he  had  stored 
therein,  and  that  he  had  collapsed  on  hearing  it, 
for  his  loss  was  irreparable. 

Don  Mishel  knew  his  chance  had  now  come  to 
bring  the  matter  uppermost  in  his  mind  to  an 

45 


46  Claudio  and  Anita 

issue.  So  he  immediately  called  to  offer  Senor 
and  Senora  Cota  his  condolence.  He  found  them 
both  crushed  by  the  enormous  loss  of  their  price 
less  treasures,  among  them  paintings  from  the 
masters. 

Having  spied  on  Claudio's  and  Anita's  move 
ments;  therefore,  knowing  of  their  love-meetings, 
he  realized  he  must  lose  no  time  in  pressing  the 
subject  next  his  heart.  After  offering  both  com 
forting  words,  he  took  advantage  of  their  situa 
tion  and  asked  for  Anita's  hand  in  marriage.  He 
told  her  parents  of  his  wealth,  and  what  that 
wealth  could  do  in  giving  their  daughter  com 
forts. 

In  their  hearts,  Senor  and  Senora  Cota  did  not 
approve  of  Anita's  marriage  to  Don  Mishel;  yet, 
when  they  thought  of  her  future  and  the  priva 
tions  to  which  poverty  would  subject  their  adored 
child,  and  also,  their  spirits  being  broken  by  mis 
fortune,  they  gave  their  consent  at  the  end  of  the 
interview,  and  Don  Mishel,  his  face  beaming  with 
joy,  retired.  His  heart's  desire  had  come,  even 
sooner  than  he  had  dared  to  hope. 

Anita  was  sitting  on  the  branch  of  an  orange 
tree,  feeding  a  nest  of  young  mocking-birds  and 
looking  nymph-like  in  her  beauty  when  a  servant 
approached  and  said  her  parents  wished  to  speak 
to  her.  She  went  in,  saying,  "Here  is  your  chi- 
quita."  Her  father,  looking  gravely  at  her,  told 


"My  Word,  It  Cannot  be  Recalled"         47 

her  that  both  her  mother  and  himself  had  promised 
her  in  marriage  to  Don  Mishel. 

Anita  stood,  for  a  moment,  as  if  stunned  by  a 
heavy  blow.  The  poor  child  became  perfectly 
white,  and  her  eyes  were  fixed  on  space  and  as 
rigid  as  those  of  the  dead.  Recovering,  she  flew 
to  her  mother's  arms,  and  resting  her  face  upon 
her  breast,  with  heart-rending  cries  moaned,  "Ma- 
masita,  it  will  break  my  heart!" 

Tears  filled  both  parents  eyes,  as  they  witnessed 
the  cruel  agitation  through  which  their  beloved 
child  was  passing,  but  both  were  obdurate,  and 
told  her  they  had  given  their  promise. 

Anita,  casting  a  timorous  and  appealing  glance 
at  her  father,  said,  "Father,  undo  thy  promise." 

In  a  stern  voice  he  replied.  "Anita,  why  this 
scene,  those  tears,  that  rigor  ?" 

"Thy  sentence  of  death,  father,"  she  answered. 

"You  must  know,  Anita,"  went  on  Senor  Cota, 
"that  it  is  the  duty  of  your  parents,  who  know 
life  and  have  charge  of  your  soul  and  happiness, 
to  steer  you  clear  of  the  rocks  that  obstruct  life's 
pathway." 

"Father,"  said  the  girl,  going  to  him  and  lay 
ing  her  head  upon  his  breast,  "by  this,  you  will 
kill  me !" 

But  his  final  answer  was,  "Anita,  I  have  given 
my  word ;  it  cannot  be  recalled." 

With  a  piteous  moan,  the  girl  turned  away  from 


48  Claudio  and  Anita 

her  parents  and  sought  Soila,  her  companion  and 
friend,  for  with  her  Anita  was  sure  to  find  sym 
pathy  and  consolation. 

While  this  scene  was  progressing,  Don  Mishel 
hastened  away  to  make  preparations  for  a  great 
fiesta,  at  which  would  be  announced  his  approach 
ing  marriage.  He  invited  the  whole  countryside. 

Never  had  there  been  more  lavish  plans  for 
the  pleasure  of  guests.  It  was  a  gay  pageant  of 
gay  colorings.  Under  a  grove  of  oaks  great  holes 
had  been  dug  for  the  tatemas  (barbecues),  where 
were  roasted  whole  beefs  and  sheep,  deer  and 
antelope,  Don  Mishel  having  sent  hunters  in  all 
directions. 

Tables  were  made,  and  set  under  wide-spread 
ing  oaks,  making  a  very  picturesque  scene.  A  band 
of  stringed  instruments  sent  sweet  notes  through 
the  breeze.  At  night  a  dance  followed,  the  space 
set  aside  for  this  being  covered  with  a  ramada, 
the  ground  packed  as  smooth  as  a  floor,  and  torches 
placed  all  around  to  furnish  illumination.  For 
three  days  and  nights  the  fiesta  continued.  Then 
Don  Mishel  departed  to  his  ranch,  to  get  it  in 
readiness  for  the  reception  of  his  bride. 

While  Claudio  was  sailing  on  his  way  to  the 
governor,  at  Monterey,  he  wrote  to  Anita  from  a 
port  on  the  way,  and  the  message  was  sent  by  spe 
cial  courier.  It  said  in  part: 

"On  Board  La  Calandria. 


"My  Word,  It  Cannot  be  Recalled"         49 

"Anita,  my  angel,  I  salute  thee.  Twenty-one 
days  since  I  last  saw  thee,  beloved.  What  an  age 
to  me  it  seems.  We  have  had  very  little  of  favor 
able  winds,  so  have  made  slow  progress  towards 
our  destination.  Here  on  the  placid  waters  of  the 
Pacific,  my  thoughts  are  of  thee,  carisima.  They 
dwell  on  the  happy  moments  we  have  shared  to 
gether. 

"Thus,  when  I  first  met  thee,  and  my  eyes  beheld 
thy  lovely  face,  I  felt  the  presence  of  an  angelic 
creature.  Thou  canst  never  guess  what  thou  art 
to  my  life, — the  ambition  thou  has  inspired,  the 
courage  to  accept  the  work  that  it  was  my  duty  to 
undertake.  I  now  go  forward  with  all  confidence, 
to  gain  a  palm  of  glory  which  I  will  lay  at  your 
feet. 

"For  hast  thou  not  made  me  acquainted  with  all 
the  joys  of  the  soul,  every  gladness  man  can  de 
sire?  ' 

"Yet,  there  are  moments  of  doubt  that  assail 
me.  What  can  they  be?  Doubt  thee,  Anita  mia? 
No,  no,  for  I  still  hear  in  my  soul  the  voice  that 
can  never  be  false,  Thine  now,  and  forever!'  The 
memory  stirs  in  my  heart,  like  a  living  thing;  the 
music  of  thy  enchanting  voice  rings  in  my  ear,  and 
the  sound  still  is  there. 

"And,  too,  I  recall  joyfully  the  sweet  tones  of 
thy  voice  blended  with  the  harmonies  of  that  quiet 
air,  the  moonlit  eve,  the  solitude  around  us,  'I 


50  Claudio  and  Anita 

shall  love  thee  in  life  and  after  death-' 

'What  a  memory  for  life,  should  there  at  any 
moment  spring  forth  something,  —  perhaps  a  mere 
trifle,  —  that  can  blight  our  dearest  hopes. 

"But  why  dwell  on  this  anguish,  for  when  I 
return  with  triumph,  after  the  success  of  my  mis 
sion,  I  will  claim  thee,  carisima.  Then  my  vision 
will  be  realized.  My  life,  my  soul,  farewell." 


CHAPTER  VII. 
CLAUDIO  SUCCESSFUL  IN  HIS  MISSION 

[HE  morning  of  the  day  on  which  Claudio 
arrived  at  Monterey,  the  governor  had 
departed  on  some  important  mission  and 
would  not  return  for  several  days.  Claudio  re 
signed  himself  to  the  inevitable,  and  after  refresh 
ing  himself  walked  seaward  and  watched  the  fish- 
erboats  beat  in  across  the  bright  blue  bay. 

The  change  of  the  scene  at  first  amused  him; 
then  across  it  all  would  come  the  dream  of  inef 
fable  sweetness,  —  his  last  moments  with  Anita. 

Next  Sunday  he  attended  mass,  and  the  balance 
of  the  day  rested.  When,  at  supper,  Claudio's 
attendant  told  him  it  was  rumored  that  the  gov 
ernor  had  returned,  he  bade  him  go  and  assure 
himself,  if  the  report  be  true,  and  quickly  return 
ing,  he  said  the  governor  was  pointed  out  to  him. 


Claudio  Successful  in  His  Mission         51 

Claudio,  having  obtained  an  audience,  speedily 
prepared,  and  presented  himself  before  the  gov 
ernor.  He  told  him  of  his  mission,  and  presented 
the  letters  from  Father  Salvidea.  The  governor 
was  charmed  at  learning  that  this  young  man  of 
courtly  grace  was  not  so  long  ago  from  the  mother 
country.  He  had,  he  mused,  all  that  high  and 
formal  breeding  which  runs  with  pure  Castilian 
blood,  and  by  his  manner  showed  that  at  one  time 
he  had  lived  among  the  festivities  of  life. 

Claudio,  with  the  delicate  tact  of  a  diplomat, 
begged  the  governor  to  graciously  attend  to  the 
matter  in  hand  as  speedily  as  possible,  as  he  had 
been  greatly  delayed  at  sea  by  unfavorable  winds. 
There  was  a  kind  of  appeal  in  the  request  that 
touched  the  governor. 

"There  are  formalities,  of  course,  you  under 
stand,  Senor  Lopez,"  said  he;  and  asked  Claudio 
various  questions,  which  were  answered  tactfully 
and  courteously. 

"I  will  look  further  into  this  matter  tomorrow, 
and  in  a  day  or  two  will  give  you  the  answer  to 
the  letters,"  concluded  the  governor. 

The  following  day  the  father  presidente  claimed 
the  governor's  attention  on  a  matter  that  brooked 
no  delay.  However,  the  governor  requested  that 
he  be  excused  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  "For,"  he 
said,  "I  must  be  immediately  in  the  affairs  of  this 
young  man,  concerning  which  I  must  be  better  in- 


52  Claudio  and  Anita 

formed.  Truly  he  is  a  most  admirable  young 
man." 

Claudio,  fevered  with  the  desire  to  return,  but 
maintaining  a  tolerable  appearance  of  content 
ment,  strolled  about  the  beach.  Then  taking  a 
book  from  among  some  he  had  brought  with  him, 
he  climbed  the  bell-tower  by  the  outer  stair.  There 
he  sat,  with  the  shadow  of  the  belfry  on  his  books, 
reading,  and  listening  to  the  rushing  of  the  waves. 
Occasionally  he  lifted  his  face,  that  he  might  view 
the  landscape,  and  to  better  inhale  the  bracing 
air. 

He  saw  his  servant  and  the  governor's  page  com 
ing  toward  him,  and  was  informed  that  the  gov 
ernor  had  summoned  him. 

The  governor  received  Claudio  with  a  friendly 
smile,  and  wished  to  know  more  of  the  entertain 
ing  at  the  mission.  Claudio  replied  that  they  were 
forced,  by  the  very  fact  of  their  situation,  into  a 
constant  and  abounding  hospitality,  and  this  of 
itself  inevitably  brought  about  large  departures 
from  the  living  originally  practiced. 

"Under  Father  Salvidea's  regime,  the  mission  is 
considered  the  most  splendid  and  opulent  on  the 
coast,"  said  he. 

"And  of  your  regime,  also,  Senor  Lopez,"  smiled 
the  governor;  for  Father  Salvidea  in  his  letter  of 
introduction  had  said:  "This  will  introduce  Don 
Claudio  Lopez,  a  young  man  who  hath  borne  him- 


Claudio  Successful  in  His  Mission         53 

self  beyond  the  promise  of  his  years.  He  has,  in 
deed,  exceeded  my  expectations,  performing  her 
culean  tasks,  not  only  with  knowledge  but  with 
wisdom." 

"The  great  army  of  neophytes  in  the  mission 
speak  for  themselves,"  said  Claudio. 

"I  am  told,  "went  on  the  governor,  "that  of  all 
the  tribes  on  the  Pacific  Coast,  the  San  Gabriele- 
nos  are  the  superiors  of  the  others."  "That  may 
be,"  replied  Claudio;  "but  with  almost  super 
human  strength  Father  Salvidea  attends  to  both 
the  spiritual  and  corporal  wants  of  that  vast  horde. 
Their  love  for  him  approaches  to  worship.  More 
than  mortal,  indeed,  is  his  strength,  inasmuch  as 
he  has  given  himself,  soul  and  body,  to  this  lofty 
work.  The  best  proof  of  his  successful  labors 
among  the  neophytes  is  that  the  whole  mission 
establishment  is  a  hive  of  industry,  with  the  men 
plying  trades,  the  women  spinning,  the  children 
in  school,  and  the  young  men  learning  music ;  for 
the  father  well  knows  the  soul-elevating  power  of 
music  and  especially  encourages  it.  After  their 
daily  labors,  amusements  and  games  are  indulged 


in." 


Then  the  conversation  drifted  to  other  subjects, 
so  that  the  interview  resulted  in  such  a  pleasant 
occasion  as  Claudio,  in  his  fondest  expectations, 
had  never  anticipated.  The  governor  invited  him 
to  remain  the  rest  of  the  week  as  his  guest;  but 


54  Claudio  and  Anita 

Claudio,  after  thanking  him  heartily,  assured  him 
he  would  be  delighted  to  do  so,  but  doubted  not 
that  Father  Salvidea  was  at  that  very  moment 
anxiously  looking  for  him. 

Next  morning  the  governor's  secretary  handed 
Claudio  his  letters,  and  he  immediately  set  sail 
for  the  mission  San  Gabriel. 

About  this  time,  Anita  received  her  lover's  let 
ter;  and  her  grief  was  pitiful.  She  pressed  the 
missive  to  her  heart,  repeating  again  and  again 
his  passionate  and  endearing  sentences.  "Beloved, 
yes,  I  love  thee  now,  and  will  love  thee  after 
death.  It  is  force,  it  is  violence,  that  takes  me 
from  thee.  I  have  been  longing  for  thee,  to  be 
clasped  in  thine  arms,  and  now, — now,  I  am  to  be 
given  into  Mishel's  arms.  I  must," — but  she  could 
not  finish  the  sentence.  She  fell  upon  her  knees, 
her  hands  clasped,  and  cried,  "Permit  it  not,  Al 
mighty  God!" 

Soila  heard  the  cry,  and,  hastening  to  her,  took 
the  beautiful  girl  in  her  arms,  laid  her,  trembling 
in  every  limb,  upon  her  bed,  and  soothed  her  as 
she  would  an  infant  until,  exhausted,  she  fell 
asleep. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
"MY  LOVE,  FOREVER  WE  MUST  PART" 


LAUDIO,  in  the  course  of  time,  returned, 
and,  although  being  tired  after  his  long 
ride  from  the  embarcadero,  and  being  late 
into  the  night,  he  felt  buoyant  and  happy.  Taking 
his  guitar  and  cloak,  he  hurried  to  serenade  his 
adored  one. 

Finding  his  way  to  the  interior  court  garden, 
he  stood  beneath  the  window  of  the  fair  vision  of 
his  dreams.  The  beauty  of  the  moonlight  night 
added  to  the  entrancing  beauty  of  the  scene  around 
him.  A  wild,  bright  joy  filled  his  heart,  while  the 
air,  laden  with  the  fragrant  essence  of  the  Castil- 
ian  roses  that  grew  beneath  his  loved  one's  win 
dow,  entranced  his  very  soul  as  he  sang,  in  rich, 
low  tones  this  serenade: 

Lt&i     ••    i ) ;  J  ; .   ' 

"Smiling  in  the  eastern  sky, 
The  moon  in  her  beauty  is  shining. 
Canst  thou,  my  love,  inactive  be, 
My  love,  are  thou  not  waking? 

Celestial  seraphime,  in  the  midst 
Of  a  radiant  cloud  in  my  dreams 
I  did  behold  thee.  Hear,  beloved, 

55 


56  Claudia  and  Anita 

My  fervent  prayer,  hear  the  voice 
Of  a  heart,  adoring;  life  of  my  soul. 
Awake!  Awake!" 

r    ' 

As  the  sweet  notes  of  the  guitar  and  the  burn 
ing  words  of  love  floated  in  at  her  window,  Anita 
awoke.  In  an  ecstacy  of  joy  she  exclaimed,  "It  is 
he!" 

But  as  the  consciousness  of  all  that  had  hap 
pened  in  his  absence  came  like  a  stab  to  her  heart, 
she  called  to  Soila,  "Soila,  he  must  not  know  yet. 
Merciful  Heavens,  not  yet!" 

Soila  told  her  it  was  best  for  him  to  know  it 
then;  and,  as  Claudio  finished  his  song,  Soila  softly 
opened  the  window,  and  in  a  whisper  told  him  all. 

She  saw  him  flinch,  as  though  from  a  heavy 
blow;  and  he  gazed  at  her  with  a  strange,  bewild 
ered  look,  as  if  not  believing  what  he  heard. 

After  a  moment  of  silence,  however,  he  aroused 
himself  by  a  supreme  effort  of  will,  and  in  voice 
calm  and  courteous  said  he  wanted  to  hear  his  fate 
from  Anita's  own  lips,  and  begged  Soila  to  arrange 
a  meeting. 

After  many  protestations,  she  consented,  and, 
with  that  turmoil  of  passionate  grief  that  made 
him  look  years  older,  Claudio  walked  slowly  away. 

Soila  told  Anita  of  her  promise;  but,  repenting 
of  her  own  weakness,  of  the  impropriety  of  the 
act,  she  said  she  would  spare  them  both  the  pangs 


"My  Love,  Forever  We  Must  Part"       57 

of  pain  at  parting;  but  Anita  insisted  on  the  meet 
ing,  promising  to  be  calm. 

At  the  appointed  time,  by  the  cove  in  the  hill, 
they  waited  for  Claudio. 

Anita,  contrary  to  her  promise,  surrendered  her 
self  to  the  bitterness  of  grief  and  despair,  saying, 
"Soila,  it  is  not  only  for  my  sorrow,  but  for  his." 

"Anita,"  said  Soila,  "I  could  see  that  each  word, 
every  word,  I  spoke,  dug  deep,  as  deep  as  the  point 
of  a  dagger,  though  he  spoke  calmly. 

11  Alma  mia,  how  can  my  lips  speak  the  word 
that  will  wound  his  noble  heart?"  continued  the 
girl.  "Here  I  am,  in  the  morning  of  life,  crushed, 
crushed,  by  this  terrible  sorrow.  O,  that  I  could 
fall  dead  at  his  f eet !  Dios  mio,  help  me ;  give  me 
courage,  to  do  my  duty!" 

After  this  outburst  of  grief,  Anita  became  more 
calm;  indeed,  every  trace  of  passion  had  disap 
peared,  when  Claudio  approached. 

Walking  slowly  towards  them,  with  arms  fold 
ed,  abruptly  he  said:  "Anita,  is  the  report  true*?" 

She  gazed  at  him,  upset  by  his  harsh  tone,  and, 
too,  benumbed  by  the  cruel  grief  she  saw  he  was 
suffering,  was  silent  for  a  moment.  By  supreme 
effort  she  gained  courage,  and  told  him  the  report 
was  true. 

"That  promise,  so  dear  to  my  heart  when  told, 
why  not  keep?"  he  asked  her,  but  she  could  only 
reply,  "I  must  obey  my  parents." 


58  Claudia  and  Anita 

Though  her  heart  was  breaking,  her  demeanor 
was  calm.  Claudio,  with  impassionate  words,  re 
proached  her,  saying,  "Thou  didst  vow  to  be  faith 
ful.  Ah,  but  that  vow  thy  faithless  heart  profaned. 
Ingrate  and  perjurer,  how,  O!  how,  can  you  look 
on  my  suffering,  my  soul's  agony,  so  calmly?" 

"O,  Claudio,  don't,  I  beseech  thee.  Don't  add 
to  my  anguish.  'Tis  the  cruel  hand  of  destiny,  the 
ruthless  force  of  fate,"  she  cried. 

"So  'twas  force,  'twas  violence,"  murmured 
Claudio. 

"Anita,  the  ship  is  in  the  port.  Come,  my  love, 
fly  with  me,  my  fair  one,  away  across  the  seas  to 
my  castle-home,  away  from  the  arms  of  that  trai 
tor,"  he  appealed. 

"Claudio,  perturb  not  my  hard  assent.  Thou 
knowest  I,  too,  suffer.  Yet  I  must  obey  the  will 
of  my  parents.  Faithful  my  troth  I  will  keep, 
and  in  silence  for  thee  I  will  weep.  Adios,  far  a 
siempre"  and  with  that  she  held  out  her  arms  to 
him,  and,  as  he  held  her  to  his  heart,  he  forgot  all 
things,  save  the  enthralling  joy  of  the  moment. 

Sobs  shook  the  girl  from  head  to  foot.  With  a 
swift  impulse  Claudio  loosed  his  arms  and  held 
her  away. 

"Anita,"  he  said,  "behold  me  in  my  great  de 
spair.  Mercy  for  thyself,  I  pray  thee  have.  Mer 
cy,  in  Heaven's  name,  I  pray  thee  show  me,  Anita, 
for  thee  my  heart  is  breaking!" 


"My  Love,  Forever  We  Must  Part"       59 

Tears  were  streaming  down  Anita's  face,  and 
her  lips  moved,  but  she  could  not  speak.  Claudio 
could  see,  plainer  than  if  written  in  words,  the 
grief  of  her  heart,  yet  she  was  a  strange  example 
of  the  courage,  the  firmness,  the  power  of  sacrifice. 
Suddenly  a  tremor  came  over  her  as  of  sudden 
fear.  Both  heard  a  rustle  in  the  bushes. 

"Claudio,  my  love,  forever  we  must  part!" 
and  with  a  last,  soulful  embrace,  they  parted, 
Claudio  walking  away  as  if  in  a  dream. 

The  rustle  in  the  shrubbery  was  no  other  than 
the  ever-spying  Don  Mishel  who,  as  he  saw  Anita 
in  Claudio's  arms,  made  a  fierce  dash  towards 
them,  blind  with  rage.  His  first  impulse  was  to 
plunge  a  dagger  into  his  rival's  heart.  He  made  a 
movement  as  if  to  fling  himself  upon  him,  but  in  a 
flash  his  quick  reasoning  came  to  his  rescue,  and 
he  realized,  that  by  any  violence  on  his  part  he 
would  lose  Anita,  whom  he  had  come  to  love  more 
and  more,  until  that  love  was  the  master  passion 
of  his  life. 

With  a  gesture  of  intense  fury  he  stepped  back 
noiselessly  and  went  to  a  recess  where  he  had  left 
his  horse.  Still  burning  with  inward  rage,  he 
mounted,  and  brutally  burying  the  spurs  deep  into 
his  horse's  flanks,  rode  like  mad,  up  and  down  the 
hills,  not  minding  where.  Murder  was  in  his  heart; 
but  he  struggled  hard  to  suppress  the  passion. 

Suddenly  rising  in  his  stirrups,  he  checked   his 


60  Claudio  and  Anita 

horse,  and  bringing  his  clenched  fist  down  upon  the 
pommel  of  the  saddle,  muttered,  "A  duel !  A  duel ! 
I'll  get  him  with  my  best  art,"  and  with  his  hand 
still  clenched,  he  made  a  movement  as  if  he  held 
the  weapon  that  would  wound  his  rival  to  death. 

Becoming  calmer  after  this  outburst,  Don 
Mishel  rode  iesurely  towards  the  Rosa  de  Cas- 
tilla.  He  saw  Anita,  and  asked  her  to  come  to  the 
court  garden  with  him,  thinking,  "I  will  hold  my 
peace."  But  as  his  eyes  met  hers,  the  fires  of  jeal 
ousy  overmastered  him. 

Telling  her  what  he  had  witnessed,  he  inquired, 
"How  answer  you  for  yourself?  I  will  get  him 
for  this !  I  will  kill  him  in  a  duel !"  he  shouted. 
"Thou  hast  doomed  this  man !" 

He  fell  into  a  stupid  silence;  but  her  plaintive 
voice,  her  sobs  of  fear,  her  pleadings  for  Claudio's 
life,  roused  him,  as  if  he  was  freed  from  a  heavy 
load  upon  his  heart  and  brain;  and  with  a  harsh 
laugh,  his  visage  darkened  with  a  hideous  sneer,  he 
said,  "Thou  asketh  me  mercy  for  my  rival4?  Thy 
pleading  infuriates  me  more.  I  repeat,  I  shall  slay 
him,  the  traitor !" 

His  fiendish  aspect  frightened  Anita,  who,  dizzy 
with  terror,  staggered  into  the  house,  found  Soila, 
and  in  the  midst  of  her  sobs  told  of  Don  Mishel's 
threats. 

Soila  clenched  her  hands  and  exclaimed,  "Dios 
miol  I  am  in  some  fault  for  this,  although  against 


"My  Love,  Forever  We  Must  Part"       61 

my  will  I  consented  to  that  meeting.  This,"  she 
said,  "is  my  punnishment  for  consenting  to  it, 
when  my  conscience  told  me  it  was  wrong." 

"You  who  know  the  noble  greatness  of  his  mind 
must  know  how  bitter  are  these  tears  that  I  shed. 
My  love,  my  sacred  love,  that  I  should  be  doomed 
to  destroy  thee;  I,  who  love  thee  more  than  life 
itself,"  sobbed  Anita,  as  she  was  seized  with  a 
deadly  shivering. 

Soila  put  her  to  bed,  telling  her  to  be  brave  and 
help  her  devise  some  plan  whereby  they  could  save 
Claudio. 

Quite  suddenly  there  came  an  inspiration : 
"Father  Salvidea,"  said  Soila,  "he  will  save  him." 

"Soila,  hasten  you  to  him,"  pleaded  Anita,  "I 
have  no  power  to  move." 

Soila  met  Father  Salvidea  as  he  was  coming  in 
from  his  rounds  among  the  neophytes.  Rushing 
towards  him,  she  told  the  object  of  her  visit,  and 
confessed  the  part  she  had  played  in  consenting  to 
the  meeting  of  the  lovers. 

The  father  told  her  to  leave  it  all  to  him,  and  to 
tell  no  one  about  the  trouble. 

Soila  returned  and  found  Anita  quiet,  but  with 
an  expectant  and  pathetic  stare.  For  a  moment 
the  duenna  was  silent. 

Anita  cried,  "Soila,  why  stand  in  this  strange 
stare^  What  heard  you*?  I  would  fain  know 
what  you  have  to  say." 


62  Claudio  and  Anita 

"Nothing  but  good,"  answered  Soila.  "Father 
Salvidea  bids  you  be  passive,  and  says  that  he 
knows  all,  but  to  tell  no  one  of  this  incident." 


CHAPTER  IX. 
SNATCHED  FROM  THE  JAWS  OF  DEATH 


ON  MISHEL,  that  same  evening,  sent 
his  second,  bearing  a  challenge,  to  Clau 
dio. 

"Say  to  Don  Mishel  I  will  attend  him  on  the 
edge  of  the  forest,  by  the  hillside,  at  sunrise  to 
morrow.  I  will  have  swords,"  said  he. 

Claudio  immediately  sent  a  message  to  his  cous 
in,  Cuso  de  Medino,  saying  he  wished  to  see  him 
without  delay;  to  him  he  related  the  particulars 
in  detail. 

Knowing  Claudio's  antagonist  as  a  large  and 
powerfully-built  man,  Cuso  had  his  fears  as  to  the 
result,  so,  unbeknown  to  Claudio,  found  his  way 
to  the  house  where  Don  Mishel  had  his  dwelling. 

He  was  received  with  that  courtesy  common 
among  men  of  the  world,  and  for  some  little  time 
the  two  interchanged  commonplace  subjects. 

Suddenly  Don  Mishel,  guessing  the  object  of 
Cuso's  visit,  turned  on  him  fiercely  and  said: 
"Come!  Enough  of  this  babble.  Let  us  have 
frankness.  What  is  your  mission  here5?" 


Snatched  from  the  Jaws  of  Death         63 

"I  am  on  a  mission  of  peace,"  said  Cuso. 

Mishel  looked  at  him  with  unwinking  eyes, 
grinned,  and,  showing  his  teeth  between  his  slight 
ly  parted  lips,  replied,  "I  have  no  quarrel  with 
you." 

"You  are  a  bit  hot-headed,  I  take  it,"  went  on 
Cuso,  "but  all  I  ask  is  fair  speech.  Can  you  deny 
this4?" 

"Not  if  you  talk  straight,"  said  Don  Mishel, 
"so  come  to  the  point." 

"Although  I  expect  little  will  come  from  it,  I 
will  say  that  you  have  an  unfair  advantage  in  this 
duel  with  my  cousin,"  said  Cuso. 

"Enough !"  Don  Mishel  said  sternly,  as  he  stood 
up,  his  long  arm  with  its  bursting  muscles  show 
ing  against  his  sleeve,  and  outstretched  towards 
the  door.  "Keep  strictly  to  your  code  of  rules, 
and  I  shall  keep  to  mine." 

There  was  a  reckless  audacity  about  the  man 
which  Cuso  could  not  fail  to  observe;  and  he  saw 
that  to  discuss  the  subject  further  was  useless; 
moreover,  it  was  his  duty  to  depart,  and  comuni- 
cate  with  Don  Mishel's  second.- 

Involuntarily,  Cuso  took  a  step  backward,  star 
ing  into  the  man's  face.  That  he  was  a  renegade 
of  some  sort,  he  did  not  doubt,  yet  it  never  occur 
red  to  him  that  he  could  be  connected  with  that 
band  of  suspicious  characters  which  he  had  en- 


64  Claudio  and  Anita 

countered  in  his  prospecting  trips  in  the  moun 
tains.  They  were  daring  and  bold  riders,  always 
pretending  to  be  looking  after  stock,  but  seeming 
ly  busy  at  something  else. 

Once  he  had  come  upon  them  in  an  inaccessible, 
high-walled  valley;  from  a  mountain  peak  he 
could  look  at  them;  but  as  the  night  closed  in 
darkness  he  could  not  perceive  their  movements. 
This  accomplished  scoundrel,  surmised  Cuso,  was 
the  one  who  had  incited  the  people  to  make  accu 
sations  against  the  saintly  Father  Salvidea.  There 
flashed  across  his  mind  stories  he  had  heard  of 
robberies  and  atrocities  committed,  and  of  a 
mighty  bandit-chief  who  had  built  his  house  on  a 
mountainside  at  the  foot  of  a  deep  canyon,  where 
he  kept  a  cache  with  secret  tunnels  that  opened 
into  this  inaccessible  canyon.  This  chief,  a  hu 
man  monster  with  a  will  uncontrolled  by  fear, 
had  the  faculty  of  bringing  honest  men  to  a  base 
submission  to  his  will,  and  of  compelling  all  men 
who  came  in  his  employ  to  take  an  oath  of  secrecy, 
threatening  death  to  any  who  broke  it.  "Is  this 
the  man,"  queried  Cuso  to  himself,  "this  dastard 
ly-eyed  scoundrel  who  grinned  into  my  face,  evi 
dently  amused  at  my  undisguised  expression  of 
anxiety  over  the  fate  of  my  noble  cousin  ?  I  would 
go  back  and  kill  him  as  I  would  a  venomous  rep 
tile,  were  I  sure.  Yes,  kill  him,  and  rid  the  world 
of  the  devil  before  more  innocent  people  could 


Snatched  from  the  Jaws>  of  Death         65 

suffer  through  his  crimes.  Yet,  murderous  rene 
gade  and  beast  though  he  may  be,  I  could  not  kill 
him  in  cold  blood.  I  will  leave  him  to  a  higher 
power,  to  be  dealt  with  as  he  deserves." 

Sunrise,  at  the  time  and  place  appointed,  the 
duelists  and  their  seconds  appeared,  Claudio  with 
stern,  immobile  countenance,  Don  Mishel  with  a 
leer.  Cuso  could  not  but  make  known  his  fear  for 
the  fate  of  his  cousin.  "Hast  any  word  to  say, 
cousin?"  he  inquired.  "Thy  assailant  is  skilled, 
and  a  devil  in  his  wrath."  "If  my  rival's  sword 
should  triumph,"  replied  Claudio,  "tell  her  I 
blessed  her  with  my  dying  breath.  To  my  mother, 
dear,  say  her  son  fell  on  the  field  of  honor."  "By 
Heaven !  I  admire  his  self-command !"  mused  Cu 
so,  "and  I  in  fear  and  distrust.  But  yet,  a  daunt 
less  spirit  I  must  show,  and  so  speak  to  Don  Mish- 
el's  second." 

Cuso  approached  the  second,  who  said,  "Let  us 
walk  toward  Don  Mishel;  we  must  make  peace 
with  them  if  we  can."  It  was  Monsieur  La  Croix 
who  spoke.  "Is  there  no  way  but  this,  Don  Mish 
el?"  he  asked.  "No  satisfaction  can  be  done  but 
by  the  pangs  of  death  to  one  or  the  other,"  re 
plied  Don  Mishel  fiercely.  "I  suffered  the  in 
sult."  Cuso  turned  towards  Claudio  and  said, 
"He  will  not  be  pacified.  His  soul  can  only  be 
appeased  with  slaughter."  "You  mistake  me, 
cousin,"  replied  Claudio.  "I  did  not  bid  thee 


66  Claudio  and  Anita 

plead  for  peace.  Thinkest  thou  I  would  give  up 
my  honor  to  save  my  poor  clay4?" 

A  strangely  opposed  pair,  they  appeared  as  they 
approached  the  arena.  Mishel,  dark,  of  unusual 
stature,  with  prodigious  muscular  development 
about  the  arms  and  chest,  and  with  every  appear 
ance  of  activity  and  strength ;  Claudio,  a  model  of 
comeliness  and  grace.  An  unequal  fight,  it  seemed 
to  Cuso,  but  Monsieur  La  Croix  saw  something  in 
Claudio's  steady  grey  eye  and  firm  step  which  left 
the  result  open  to  doubt. 

To  this  forbidding  figure  Claudio  walked,  fol 
lowed  by  his  cousin,  Cuso. 

All  being  in  readiness,  the  seconds  paced  the 
distance,  examined  the  keen  bright  blades,  and 
handed  them  to  the  rivals. 

"One,  two,  three !    Engage !"    The  duel  began. 

Mishel's  strokes  were  well  aimed,  but  Claudio's 
warded  them  with  swift  and  certain  skill. 

Now  was  the  time  for  the  purer  living  and  agile 
limb  to  show  its  value.  Claudio's  arm  sped  over 
and  under  Mishel's  sword  with  a  swiftness  bewil 
dering  to  the  eye, — so  swift  that  the  eye  could  not 
follow  the  quick  play  of  his  blade. 

Mishel  fought  desperately.  On  and  on  came 
his  sword  points;  now  at  his  foeman's  face;  now 
at  his  throat;  now  at  his  chest. 

Claudio  parried  and  dodged  them.  He  knew 
well  that  such  efforts  could  not  long  be  sustained ; 


Snatched  from  the  Jaws  of  Death         67 

for  it  was  clearly  to  be  seen  that  Mishel  was  los 
ing  strength,  as  he  was  panting  heavily  from  fruit 
less  efforts ;  yet  he  continued  parrying  and  thrust 
ing  in  desperation. 

To  Claudio's  endurance  there  seemed  to  be  no 
limit,  no  abatement,  no  weakening  to  the  spirit  in 
his  steady  gray  eye.  He  continued  to  guard,  wait 
ing  for  his  opportunity  that  he  might  hit  effect 
ively  when  it  presented  itself. 

Finally  he  saw  his  chance  had  come  and  raised 
his  sword  to  strike  so  that  he  might  bring  it  down 
with  a  swinging  blow,  when  suddenly  the  tall, 
stately  form  of  Father  Salvidea  appeared  between 
them,  as  if  springing  from  the  very  ground. 

Turning  to  Claudio,  he  said,  "Claudio,  Claudio, 
do  not  stain  your  hands  with  blood !"  Don  Mishel 
stood,  as  if  rooted  to  the  spot.  His  immobility 
but  cloaked  an  internal  struggle,  however,  for  sud 
denly  he  made  a  dash  towards  his  antagonist. 
Father  Salvidea  raised  his  hand  with  a  gesture  of 
command,  his  eye  fixed  on  Don  Mishel's  face.  Don 
Mishel  looked  at  him  stupidly,  but  checked  him 
self  in  his  wild  rush,  and  slowly  the  frenzied  pas 
sion  died,  leaving  him  shaking  like  a  leaf. 

"Yes,  Don  Mishel,"  said  Father  Salvidea,  "I 
snatched  thee  out  of  the  jaws  of  death.  Claudio's 
athletic  training  hath  made  him  quick  in  action, 
and  he  hath  in  him  skill,  youth,  and  strength,  that 
supplied  him  advantage  over  you.  I  will  advise 


68  Claudio  and  Anita 

you  both  to  shake  hands."  Don  Mishel  moved  a 
pace,  then  another,  with  outstretched  hand,  to 
ward  Claudio. 

But  Claudio  folded  his  arms  across  his  breast 
and  said,  raising  his  eyes  towards  Father  Salvidea, 
"In  all  reverence  to  you,  I,  like  the  Douglas,  will 
say,  'this  hand  is  Claudio's  alone'."  Father  Salvi 
dea  then  spoke  with  the  imperious  accent  of  the 
master  who  is  accustomed  to  command,  and  told 
them  to  keep  the  matter  secret,  and  peace  here 
after.  All  parties  agreed,  and,  sheathing  their 
bloodless  swords,  departed.  Yet  they  knew  not 
that  another  duel  had  been  fought  between  a  saint 
and  a  devil,  and  that  Father  Salvidea,  with  his 
spiritual  powers,  had  undone  the  devil. 

Don  Mishel,  pacing  in  his  apartment  like  a 
caged  lion,  in  a  rage  at  his  shattered  plan  to  de 
stroy  his  rival,  was  racking  his  brain  for  a  means 
to  do  away  with  Claudio.  He  planned  one  thing, 
then  another,  but  none  suited  him.  He  could  not 
think  clearly,  since  the  morning  experience,  and 
could  not  understand  why.  He  knew  of  some 
recipes  which  caused  death  as  if  by  natural  ill 
ness.  He  would  have  Agapito  Sepulveda  attach 
himself  to  the  mission  service  and  have  him  do  the 
work.  Yet,  that  would  take  too  long,  and,  too, 
there  was  that  friar  to  contend  with.  Suddenly 
he  stopped;  he  had  adopted  a  plan,  which  will  be 
known  later. 


CHAPTER  X. 
'YOU  HAVE  THE  WRONG  MAN !" 

N  the  afternoon  of  that  eventful  day  Don 
Cuso  called  on  his  cousin  and  found  him  at 
his  work;  but  making  ready  to  start  on  his 
rounds  of  inspection  of  the  works  which  were  un 
der  construction  at  the  mission.  Cuso  compliment 
ed  his  cousin  on  his  calmness  after  the  strenuous 
morning. 

A  smile  flitted  over  Claudio's  face  as  he  said, 
"I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  excited  over  it  all;  but 
the  fact  is,  you  have  just  one  big  moment  of  ex 
citement  when  the  tragic  time  comes," — (a  smile 
came  over  Cuso's  face  as  he  remembered  the  dra 
matic  turn  the  near  tragedy  had  taken) — "after 
that  reaction,  then  calmness.  That  is  the  element 
I  am  experiencing  at  the  present  moment.  So  you 
see,  I  have  not  been  swept  away  by  excitement. 
But  I  must  be  going." 

Cuso  remembered  the  look  on  Don  Mishel's 
face  as  he  turned  back  and  glared  at  his  cousin; 
there  was  treachery  in  that  fiendish,  ugly  look,  he 
thought.  He  must  be  secretly  on  his  guard  for 
the  safety  of  his  cousin. 

Endeavoring  to  dissuade  Claudio  from  making 
his  usual  rounds  that  day,  he  said,  "It  being  so 

69 


70  Claudio  and  Anita 

late,  them  canst  not  make  the  rounds  before  dark." 

"O,"  said  Claudio,  "I  will  master  the  situa 
tion."  He  felt  his  cousin  wanted  to  spare  him, 
thinking  he  must  be  tired  out. 

"I  was  convinced  of  that  this  morning,"  smiled 
Cuso;  "nevertheless,  allow  me  to  go  in  your  place 
now." 

"Bien  si  es  tu  gusto.  If  it  is  your  pleasure,  cous 
in,  go.  Do  you  know  that  in  trouble  it  is  worth 
while  living  to  feel  the  real  thing:  a  disinterested 
and  faithful  friendship?"  said  Claudio. 

The  rays  of  the  setting  sun  touched  the  gorge 
ous  woods  with  a  bright  glow  and  the  day  waned 
away,  as  Cuso  rode  slowly  on,  watching  the  west 
ern  gleam  until  it  vanished.  Not  a  human  being 
came  within  his  vision,  only  the  dense  woods  in 
myriads  of  tints  of  green,  bronze  and  red,  the 
western  sky  so  clear,  and  the  stars  sparkling  in 
the  swift  twilight  which  links  day  and  night.  He 
had  gone  the  rounds  of  inspection  and  was  leis 
urely  riding  on,  carelessly  wandering  into  less 
familiar  regions,  but  with  no  prospect  of  becom 
ing  lost;  for  he  had  explored  nearly  every  portion 
of  the  valley  up  to  the  mountains  above. 

He  turned  back  and  hurried  on,  as  it  was  grow 
ing  darker;  though  he  knew  well  what  course  to 
take  to  bring  him  back  speedily  to  the  mission. 
Presently,  however,  he  became  conscious  of  other 
people  in  the  wood  besides  himself;  he  saw  no 


"Tou  Have  the  Wrong  Man"  71 

one,  but  he  heard  the  breaking  of  twigs  and  the 
stir  of  leaves,  which  told  him  of  human  presence. 
He  had  a  sense  of  being  surrounded.  There  was 
no  doubt  of  it  now,  for  he  heard  a  whispering 
sound.  Then  a  half-score  of  men  seemed  to  rise 
from  the  ground  around  and  out  of  the  bushes. 
He  had  only  time  to  realize  they  were  bandits, 
when  he  heard  the  whirr  of  a  lariata  that  was 
thrown  around  his  body  and  he  was  felled  to  the 
ground.  Unconscious,  he  was  carried  away. 

Regaining  his  senses,  Cuso  felt  a  splash  of  wa 
ter  on  his  face,  and  a  flask  was  put  to  his  lips. 
He  realized  he  had  been  kidnapped,  and  that  the 
hand  behind  the  business  was  Don  Mishel's.  But 
what  did  they  want  with  him'?  It  was  clear  some 
deep-laid  plot  lay  behind  all  this. 

He  was  roused  from  his  musings  by  the  harsh 
voice  of  the  bandit,  Sepulveda,  saying,  "Come 
this  way,  senor,"  and  so  saying  the  bandit  turned 
aside  the  dense  brush,  plowing  ever  deeper,  until 
they  came  to  a  place  where  great  rocks  and  boul 
ders  jutted  up  around  the  green.  Before  them  rose 
a  steep  cliff,  on  whose  jagged  walls  grew,  here  and 
there,  vines  and  brush.  At  the  foot  of  this  cliff 
grew  a  tree,  stunted,  but  with  spreading  green 
branches,  up  which  the  bandit  climbed  a  few  feet 
from  the  ground,  when  he  vanished  into  the  face 
of  the  cliff. 

But  in  a  moment  the  branches  were  parted  and 


72  Claudio  and  Anita 

the  bandit  looked  down  and  beckoned  Cuso  to  fol 
low.  Climbing  the  tree,  he  seized  hard  hold  upon 
a  vine  and  found  himself,  upon  his  knees,  within 
a  small  cave.  There  the  bandit,  taking  hold  of 
his  hand,  led  him  to  the  end  of  the  cavern,  where 
there  was  a  winding  passage  which  brought  them 
to  a  second,  and  larger  cave. 

The  bandit  whistled,  and,  in  a  while,  a  glow 
appeared,  then  a  man  bearing  a  torch  which 
showed  a  wide  cave,  whose  rough  walls  glistened 
here  and  there,  and  whose  rocky  floor  ended  ab 
ruptly  in  a  yawning  gulf,  from  whose  depths  came 
murmurs,  and  ripplings  of  water. 

Halting  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  chasm,  the 
man  lifted  his  torch  and,  stooping,  took  up  a 
plank,  which  he  thrust  across  the  gulf.  Cuso  cross 
ed  the  plank,  the  torch-bearer  going  ahead,  lead 
ing  the  way,  and  the  bandit  walking  behind,  along 
a  low-roofed  passageway,  until  they  came  to  a 
cavern  where  a  fire  was  burning,  the  red  light 
from  which  played  upon  the  polished  blades  and 
arms  that  hung  against  the  wall.  In  a  corner,  a 
man  lay  snoring.  The  bandit  shook  him  roughly, 
to  awaken  him,  and  ordered  him  to  make  some 
coffee. 

Cuso  sat  down  beside  the  fire  and  rested  his 
head  upon  his  hands.  The  coffee  being  ready, 
the  bandit  poured  out  a  cup  for  himself  and  an 
other  for  Cuso,  into  which  he  put  some  drops,  a 


"Tou  Have  the   Wrong  Man"  73 

decoction  that,  while  making  one  half  stupid, 
gives  him  a  sense  of  restful  contentment.  After 
drinking  the  coffee,  the  bandit  brought  a  stone 
tablet,  upon  which  were  some  figures  and  a  skull, 
saying  it  was  the  law,  that  whoever  fell  into  their 
hands  to  swear  secrecy  to  whatever  took  place 
or  was  seen  thereabouts  by  placing  his  hand  on 
the  skull  and  putting  some  mark  or  signing  his 
name,  in  his  life  blood,  which  was  gotten  by  pierc 
ing  the  wrist.  In  case  of  refusal,  death,  and  a 
burial  in  the  yawning  abyss  over  which  they  had 
passed,  was  inflicted. 

Cuso  did  not  want  to  sign  and  swear  on  the  tab 
let;  but,  seeing  nothing  but  certain  death  before 
him,  did  so;  besides,  while  he  would  be  compelled 
to  keep  his  oath,  he  could  watch  over  his  cousin; 
for  should  he  fall  into  the  hands  of  this  murder 
ous  band  the  life  and  light  would  go  out  of  San 
Gabriel. 

After  taking  the  oath,  Cuso  threw  himself  on  a 
bed  of  leaves  which  had  been  prepared  and  pres 
ently  was  sound  asleep.  While  he  slept,  the  chief 
of  the  band  unexpectedly  made  his  appearance, 
went  directly  to  where  he  was  reposing,  looked 
into  his  face,  and  with  an  oath  turned  to  his  cap 
tain  and  said,  "Es  el  Cuso  I  You  have  the  wrong 


man!" 


Don  Mishel,  for  the  chief  was  indeed  he,  flew 
into  a  towering  rage.    "I  wanted  that  man.    Thou 


74  Claudio  and  Anita 

knowest  who,"  he  said;  and  then  followed  a  tor 
rent  of  oaths  and  blasphemies  so  terrific  that  even 
the  toughened  Sepulveda's  blood  ran  cold. 

"You  ordered  the  capture  of  the  man  who 
would  be  riding  about  the  mission  works,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  yes,"  Mishel  muttered,  "I  scorned  to 
speak  his  name." 

After  holding  a  consultation  with  Sepulveda, 
the  chief  said  Cuso  was  too  dangerous  a  man  to 
be  turned  loose,  so  they  would  have  to  do  away 
with  him.  Bardo,  the  cook,  poured  out  their  cof 
fee,  after  drinking  which  they  laid  themselves 
down  to  sleep. 

Bardo,  going  to  where  Cuso  was  asleep,  shook 
him  gently,  saying,  "Sefior,  sefior,  awake !" 

"Que  hay?"  said  Cuso,  raising  his  head. 

"I  decocted  yerba  aniz  in  their  coffee,"  said  Bar- 
do,  "that  I  might  set  you  free.  I  heard  they  plan 
ned  to  murder  you.  They  are  fast  locked  in  sleep 
now." 

"And  why  should  you  save  my  life?"  asked 
Cuso. 

"On  a  certain  day,  within  these  mountains,  you 
found  me  sorely  wounded  and  near  death  with 
thirst,"  answered  Bardo.  "You  carried  me  in  your 
arms  up  the  steep  mountain,  you  cared  for  me, 
taking  me  to  your  mountain  cabin,  where  you  are 
wont  to  rest  on  your  prospecting  tours.  Now  fol- 


"Ton  Rave  the   Wrong  Man"  75 

low  me,  senor,"  and  so  saying  he  took  a  lantern 
and  began  to  descend. 

Cuso  followed  down  a  narrow  stair  and  along  a 
passage  which  ended  abruptly  against  a  small 
door,  whose  rusted  iron  was  banded  with  mighty 
clamps.  Here  Bardo  paused  to  fit  the  key  in  the 
lock,  and  he  strained  and  panted  before  the  door 
yielded  and  opened.  Looking  up  at  Cuso  he  said, 
"Senor,  there  lieth  thy  way  to  life  and  the  world. 
As  thou  didst  save  my  life,  so  do  I  give  thee 
thine." 

Thus  Cuso  stepped  out  into  the  cool  air  of 
dawn.  For  awhile  he  stood  staring  at  the  sky, 
where  yet  a  few  stars  shone,  and  drank  in  mighty 
breaths  of  the  fresh  air  while  he  got  his  bearings. 
Then,  following  a  bridle  path,  he  came  into  the 

valley  below. 

*    «t    « 

CHAPTER  XL 

FATE  RESCUES  ANITA  FROM  DON 
MISHEL 

[NITA'S  wedding-day  approached.  Don 
Mishel  came  to  the  Rose  de  Castillo,,  bring 
ing  costly  gifts  for  his  fiancee,  and  to 
the  Senor  and  Senora  Cota  he  presented  the  deeds 
to  their  lands,  in  his  happiness  and  enthusiasm. 
The  marriage  was  to  take  place  the  next  day,  at 
mass. 


76  Claudia  and  Anita 

Returning  to  his  ranch,  he  gave  a  party  to  his 
friends  who,  in  fact,  were  members  of  his  band, 
and  to  his  best  man,  M.  La  Croix.  Dancing  and 
drinking  were  freely  indulged  in  until  the  small 
hours  of  the  morning,  so,  when  he  arose  after  a 
rest,  scarcely  over  the  effects  of  the  night's  hilar 
ity,  he  required  the  assistance  of  his  best  man  to 
dress  for  the  wedding. 

Claudio,  knowing  that  next  morning  Anita's 
marriage  was  to  take  place,  would  not  be  near;  so 
went  to  the  hillside  to  pray  for  strength  and  self- 
mastery.  The  thought  that  Anita,  whom  he  loved 
more  than  life  itself  and  who  loved  him,  was  to 
become  the  wife  of  another  man,  was  rending  his 
heart  in  twain.  Every  nerve  was  strained  as  on  a 
rack,  and  the  thought  that  she  did  not  love  this 
man,  but  was  giving  herself  as  a  sacrifice  to  her 
parents,  increased  his  torture.  Almost  delirious 
in  his  grief,  at  times  his  poetic  spirit  would  give 
vent  to  these  lines : 

"Beloved  land  where  I  was  born, 

Forced  from  thee,  to  this  I  came. 

I  protest  'tis  force  that  brought  me, 

Or  'twas  fortune  willed  should  be  my  dower. 

Flowers  that  met  me,  flourishing  gay 
With  thy  beauty,  sparkling,  filled  my  eyes; 
Why  are  thorns  thy  gifts  today? 
I  did  but  touch  the  sweetness  of  romance, 


Fate  Rescues  Anita  from  Don  Mishel     77 

And  now  must  lose  her, 

But  to  have  known  her,  to  have  loved  her, 

Is  worth  this  pain, — I  hold  that  dear!" 

"O,  if  I  could  say  a  prayer,"  he  cried,  "that 
would  reach  the  hearing  of  God.  The  Holy  Book 
says  'prayer  out  of  a  poor  man's  mouth  reacheth 
the  ears  of  God  and  His  judgment  comes  speed 
ily'." 

With  a  sudden  wave  of  emotion  he  arose,  and 
with  countenance  raised  Heavenward  and  arms 
extended  in  the  appealing  attitude  of  a  struggling 
soul,  he  cried  aloud :  "Father  Almighty,  save  her 
from  that  awful  fate,  and  I  vow  my  life  to  thy 
service.  Hear,  Heaven,  and  bear  witness  to  my 
vow." 

And,  as  if  the  great  turmoil  of  pain  and 
grief  that  pierced  his  very  soul  had  been 
checked  by  an  all-suffering  goodness  and 
clemency,  as  he  stood,  with  his  eyes  raised  to  the 
great  expanse  above,  a  soothing  sense  of  peace 
swept  over  his  soul,  and  he  fell  into  a  peaceful 
slumber. 

Meanwhile,  at  the  call  of  the  Alva,  the  house 
hold  at  the  Rosa  de  Castillo,  was  stirred  for  their 
duties  in  anticipation  of  a  great  fiesta.  Soila,  go 
ing  to  Anita's  chamber,  found  her  still  in  bed. 
She  was  urged  to  rise,  as  the  first  chimes  were 
ringing,  and  the  hour  of  her  marriage  was  fast  ap 
proaching. 


78  Claudio  and  Anita 

Anita  pleaded  to  be  left  a  while  longer, — as 
one  would  for  a  stay  of  sentence  being  led  to  his 
doom, — but  finally  arose  and,  with  the  assistance 
of  Soila,  dressed,  looking,  in  her  bridal  robes,  like 
some  ethereal  being.  She  was  in  readiness  for  the 
bridegroom. 

While  the  preparations  for  the  wedding  were 
going  on  at  the  house,  Don  Mishel,  with  M.  La 
Croix  and  a  driver,  stepped  into  a  coach.  Don 
Mishel,  feeling  stupid  and  drowsy  and  thinking 
the  fresh  air  would  revive  him,  took  a  seat  beside 
the  driver,  and  was  half  asleep  when  the  coach 
suddenly  struck  a  boulder;  being  unable  to  keep 
his  hold,  he  fell  out,  and  the  wheels  of  the  heavy 
coach  passed  over  his  chest,  crushing  it  in. 

Quickly,  M.  La  Croix  jumped  out,  pulled  the 
unconscious  form  from  under  the  coach,  and  felt 
the  pulse ;  there  was  yet  a  feeble  fluttering. 

Suddenly  Don  MishePs  big  frame  shook  con 
vulsively,  and  his  head  moved  slightly. 

"Don  Mishel,"  said  his  friend,  "you  are  dying. 
Do  you  want  to  say  anything?  Do  you  want  the 
priest?" 

"Yes,  I  know  I  am  dying,"  he  replied.  He  lay 
still  for  a  moment,  then  continued : 

"Father  Salvidea!  Father,"  his  voice  almost  a 
whisper,  but  singularly  clear,  "I  confess  I  have 
been  a  bad  man.  I  wanted  money,  money,  and  to 
obtain  that,  I  robbed  the  widow  and  orphan  and 


Fate  Rescues  Anita  from  Don  Mishel     79 

left  them  destitute.  I  caused  Senor  Cota's  ranch 
house  to  be  burned,  destroying  his  priceless  treas 
ures;  I  sent  my  captain,  Sepulveda,  to  do  the 
work;  I  did  that,  in  order  to  break  the  senor's 
spirit,  and  to  obtain  the  promise  of  his  beautiful 
daughter's  hand.  I  robbed  the  legal  heirs  of  their 
buried  riches  of  gold  and  silver,  using  my  arts  to 
frighten  them  away;  they  left  the  field  clear  to 
me,  just  as  they  had  reached  their  treasure,  and  I 
afterward  buried  it  in  another  place.  I  cheated 
the  widow  of  her  home  and  all  she  possessed,  and 
left  her  destitute  with  her  three  little  children.  I 
have  been  a  living  lie,  most  of  my  life.  Now,  I 
am  meeting  the  fate  of  all  transgressors." 

His  chest  heaving  with  exhaustion,  suddenly  he 
cried,  deliriously :  "Speed  up,  Pepo !  Speed  up ! 
We  will  be  late !" 

When  he  spoke  again,  he  seemed  entirely  con 
scious,  and  as  he  opened  his  eyes  and  fastened 
them  on  his  friend,  he  said,  "Anita!  Anita!  Take 
me  there  quickly.  I  want  to  look  upon  her  lovely 
face  once  more."  The  weakening  voice  and  the 
agonized  appeal  made  the  scene  pitiful. 

M.  La  Croix's  face  was  pale  with  emotion;  for 
the  confession  of  the  dying  man  was  a  revelation 
to  him.  With  moistened  eyes  he  nodded  to  the 
coachman,  and  the  two  lifted  Don  Mishel  into 
the  coach  and  speedily  drove  to  the  Rosa  de  Cas- 
tilla,  where  all  the  household  was  in  confusion. 


80  Claudio  and  Anita 

The  groom  was  behind  the  hour.  They  were 
wondering  what  had  happened,  when,  in  looking 
towards  the  road,  they  saw  the  coach,  coming  at 
full  speed.  It  was  driven  into  the  courtyard, 
where  two  men  alighted  and  were  soon  carrying 
the  dying  Don  Mishel  towards  the  house. 

On  passing  the  threshold,  Don  Mishel  turned 
towards  the  assembled  company;  on  his  face  was 
pictured  the  despair  of  the  damned;  muttering 
curses  and  imprecations,  he  breathed  his  last. 

Thus  passed  away  a  triple  life,- — a  bandit  chief, 
a  thief,  and  a  murderer. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  confusion  a  horseman 
was  seen  approaching  the  house  on  a  foaming 
steed.  A  few  rods  from  the  door,  the  horse  fell 
dead;  but  the  rider,  after  whirling  in  the  air, 
alighted  safely  on  his  feet  upon  the  ground.  See 
ing  his  horse  was  dead,  he  ran  to  the  house  with 
all  speed,  and  asked  to  see  the  Senor  and  Senora 
Cota. 

He  told  them  he  rode  hard  that  night,  risking 
his  life,  so  that  he  might  get  there  in  time  to  save 
their  beloved  daughter  from  being  married  to  a 
bandit  chief  and  murderer.  For  years  he  had 
served  the  senor,  and  seen  the  lovely  child  grow 
in  her  innocence  and  beauty. 

"He  has  been  judged  by  a  higher  power.  Don 
Mishel  is  dead,"  they  said. 


Fate  Rescues  Anita  from  Don  Mishel     81 

While  these  scenes  were  rapidly  passing,  Anita, 
in  an  uncontrollable  impulse,  had  rushed  up  the 
mountainside,  followed  by  Soila.  She  knew  not 
why,  but  with  the  inspiration  of  a  soul  set  free 
of  its  fetters,  her  spirit  gave  vent  to  song,  and  she 
sang  in  a  sweet,  low  tone  : 

"Where  may  I  find  thee,  heart's  beloved, 

Beneath  what  skies'? 
In  vain  I  seek  thee  everywhere, 

With  tear-dim'd  eyes. 
To  glen,  to  mount,  to  tide, 

My  grief  is  known, 
As  each  replies  :  not  here  shalt  thou 

Behold  thine  own." 


CHAPTER  XII. 
"FATHER,  I  AM  RESIGNED" 

LAUDIO,  slumbering,  was  partly  awak 
ened  by  a  voice.  "What  is  that  I  heard," 
he  said,  half  awake.  The  faint,  sweet 
voice,  as  from  far  away,  again  reached  his  ears, 
and  rising,  he  looked  around,  but  saw  no  one.  "Are 
my  senses  deceiving  me4?"  he  asked  of  himself,  as 
he  started  to  follow  the  sound. 

"It  is  hers!"  he  exclaimed,  but  remembering 
his  vow,  he  said,  "Cease,  sweet  accents,  cease  to 


82  Claudio  and  Anita 

sing.  Though  that  voice  greatly  charmed  before, 
now  it  is  changed  to  a  harmful  blast." 

But  he  continued  to  follow  the  sound,  and  came 
upon  a  scene  that  held  him  spellbound.  In  a  cove 
of  the  wood-crowned  hill  was  Anita,  as  in  the 
vision  of  his  dream,  and  he  exclaimed,  "My  dream ! 
My  dream !" 

As  she  saw  him,  Anita  stepped  lightly  towards 
him  with  arms  outstretched,  and  he  rushed  to 
meet  her  embrace,  for  the  moment  forgetting  all, 
but  stopped  abruptly  and  said:  "My  vow.  I  can 
not,  I  must  not."  He  had  prayed  never  to  see  her 
again,  and  now,  here  she  stood  before  him  unless 
she  was  the  vision  of  his  dream. 

"Claudio!"  she  cried,  and  the  sweetness  of  her 
voice,  the  tenderness  of  her  tone,  moved  him. 

"Anita!"  he  answered,  "how  came  you  here*?" 

She  moved  her  lips,  but  words  came  not,  and 
she  looked  at  him  in  mute  appeal.  Briefly  he  told 
her  of  his  vow. 

"Why,  O  why,  was  it  given  at  such  a  price," 
she  said,  covering  her  face  with  her  beautiful 
hands. 

Claudio  glanced  inquiringly  at  Solia,  who  re 
lated  to  him,  in  a  few  words,  all  that  had  trans 
pired.  "Father,  I  thank  Thee,  Thou  has  heard 
my  prayer,"  said  Claudio  reverently. 

And,  as  Anita  heard  those  words,  she  stepped 
up  to  him,  and  taking  both  his  hands  in  hers,  said, 


"Father,  I  am  Resigned"  83 

"My  beloved,  hold  sacred  thy  vow ;  for  it  is  writ 
ten  that  they  who  break  such  vows  incur  their  own 
damnation.  Heaven  help  us  both!" 

Gently  kissing  her  hand,  he  turned  away. 

Soila  and  Anita  hastened  home  and  Senora  Cota 
came  out  to  meet  them.  In  the  excitement,  Anita 
had  been  forgotten ;  but  now  they  were  frantically 
looking  for  her.  As  she  saw  her  mother,  she  rushed 
to  her  arms,  and  with  a  cry  fell  senseless  at  her 
feet.  Soila  tenderdly  raised  her  in  her  arms  and 
carried  her  into  the  house,  where,  after  a  time 
which  seemed  an  age  to  her  parents  she  revived  as 
from  a  heavy  stupor,  but  delirious  and  with  a  high 
fever. 

Her  life  for  a  long  time  was  despaired  of;  but 
youth  and  vitality  were  in  her  favor,  and,  after 
days  of  suspense,  she  rallied.  She  wanted  Claudio ; 
but  at  first  had  not  the  courage  to  ask  for  him. 
Finally  she  was  told  that  he  had  not  been  to  her 
house,  but  had  sent  a  page  every  day  to  ask  after 
her  health. 

His  cousin,  too,  came  every  day  to  render  his 
assistance,  until  Soila' s  marriage  to  him,  for,  when 
he  saw  Anita  out  of  danger  he  would  brook  no 
delay.  "I'll  take  no  chances  of  losing  her.  I'll 
have  her  now,"  he  said. 

Chona  was  chosen  from  among  some  young 
women  to  wait  on  Anita,  and  no  one  ever  held  a 
position  with  greater  pride  than  did  she.  She  was 


84  Claudio  and  Anita 

most  devoted,  and  was  delighted  to  wait  upon 
and  fuss  around  her  charge  continually. 

Claudio  plunged  deep  into  his  mission  work. 
Still  when  his  duties  permitted,  he  turned  toward 
the  hillside.  He  loved  to  ramble  in  the  scene 
which  had  been  so  much  to  him,  both  his  heaven 
and  his  Gethsemane.  There  he  would  often  linger 
alone  wrapt  in  a  melancholy  charm  till  the  last 
gleam  of  day  faded  from  the  west.  There  among 
the  scenes  of  nature — the  wildwood  walks  that 
skirted  the  mountains,  the  coves  and  recesses,  the 
silence  and  grandeur  of  solitude  impressed  a  sacred 
awe  upon  his  heart  and  lifted  his  thoughts  above 
worldy  sorrows  and  cares  to  the  God  of  heaven 
and  earth.  Moreover,  in  that  beautiful  and  hal 
lowed  spot,  in  the  stillness  and  dignity  of  the 
place  he  found  comfort  from  his  affliction  and 
soulful  rest.  He  had  learned  to  love  this  country 
and  his  work  in  the  mission,  where  he  had  achieved 
an  unparalled  success  in  the  construction  of  build 
ing  and  in  teaching  the  neophites.  Both  these  lines 
of  activity  interested  and  fascinated  him;  but  in 
spite  of  this  strong  tie  which  held  him,  he  made 
the  decision  to  leave  the  mission  forever. 

He  would  go  away  and  fight  this  mad  love  which 
at  times  caused  him  to  waver  in  his  resolution  to 
keep  his  vow,  so  solemnly  made  to  God,  when  the 
horror  of  marriage  to  Mishel  was  dark  upon  her 
whom  his  whole  soul  loved  with  an  adoring  fervor. 


"Father,  I  am  Resigned"  85 

At  these  times  of  wavering,  he  would  fight  as  men 
fight  against  the  flames  which  are  destroying  their 
home,  finding  that  in  spite  of  all  the  water  they 
can  pour  upon  the  blaze  the  flames  will  spring  up 
again  in  the  old  places  and  in  the  new.  Yet  un 
aware  his  thoughts  would  wander  to  his  lost  love, 
and  awakened  in  his  mind  the  poetic  spirit  which 
made  his  heart  lament  and  sing. 

"Go,  breezes,  whisper  to  the  Fairest  in  this  land, 
When  next  her  steps  shall  hallow  these  wood 
land  walks  and  ways, 

Of  one  who  once  gazed  fondly  on  her  gentle,  radi 
ant  smile, 

But  whose  heart,  now  desolated,  for  her  pres 
ence  vainly  prays. 

If  I  could  paint  upon  this  rock  her  soul-illum 
ined  eyes, 
The  wonders  of  her  rhythmic  form,  her  magic 

pensive  face, 
It  would  bring  the  whole  world  hitherward  with 

eagerness  to  see 

A  beauty  which  surpasses  every  human  charm 
and  grace. 

O  holy  picture  in  my  heart !  a  light  of  glory  there 
To  safely  guide  my  wayward  feet  wherever 
they  may  roam, 


86  Claudio  and  Anita 

E'en  to  the  world's  great  end  or  beyond  the  far 
thest  star, 

To   look   upon   you    anywhere   were   country, 
friends  and  home. 

But  he  must  go,  go  away  and  never  see  her 
again,  go  away  without  one  spoken  word  of  fare 
well  between  them. 

Since  early  childhood  Claudio  had  been  taught 
the  doctrines,  practices  and  fervors  of  religion,  and 
so  all  that  was  strongest  and  noblest  within  him 
had  responded  with  a  simple  faith  and  depth  of 
ardent  devotion  which  made  his  religion  the  most 
vital  part  of  his  being,  the  most  hallowed  motive 
of  his  life. 

This  it  was  which  had  given  him  a  noble  forti 
tude  in  his  sorrow.  This  it  was  which  at  times 
gave  him  that  noble  exhaltation  in  which  his  firm 
belief  that  his  vow  had  saved  Anita  from  a  fate 
worse  than  death  became  a  rapture  of  gratitude  to 
God.  Through  his  anguish  and  deep  travail  for 
her  horrid  condition,  compelled  to  an  unwilling 
marriage  to  a  wicked  man,  he  believed  that  God 
had  heard  his  prayers,  accepted  his  vow  and  set 
the  beloved  of  his  heart  free  from  the  grip  of 
hellish  evil. 

Finally  he  made  his  decision :  resolving  to  leave 
the  mission,  forever.  He  would  go  away  and  fight 
against  that  mad  love  which  at  times  caused  him 


"Father,  I  am  Resigned"  87 

to  waver  in  his  resolution  to  keep  his  vow.  At 
those  times  he  would  fight  as  men  fight  against 
the  flames  which  spring  up  afresh.  He  would  go 
without  a  word  of  farewell.  He  must  never  see 
her  again. 

Anita,  too,  was  struggling  against  her  love,  but 
ill  succeeding.  She  would  say  to  Chona,  "Why,  O 
why,  does  he  not  come?  I  am  weary  waiting.  I 
wish  that  I  were  dead." 

There  was  so  much  depair  in  her  voice  that 
Chona  could  hardly  bear  to  hear  her,  besides,  she 
could  see  that  the  unsatisfied  longing  of  her  heart 
was  consuming  her. 

Becoming  alarmed,  Chona  went  to  see  Father 
Salvidea,  told  him  of  Anita's  condition,  and  be- 
seeched  him  to  come  and  talk  to  her,  which  the 
kindly  father  was  pleased  to  do. 

Coming  into  Anita's  presence,  he  said,  "My 
poor  child,  thy  condition  grieves  me." 

"Father,"  said  Anita,  "you  doubtless  know,  in 
asmuch  as  you  know  all  things.  Have  you  not 
discovered  the  cause  of  my  sufferings?" 

Father  Salvidea  looked  at  her  with  something 
like  reproach  in  his  gaze.  She  continued,  "I  should 
have  gone  to  you  in  the  confessional,  but  unhap 
pily  my  heart  has  hardened  itself;  I  have  neither 
the  courage  nor  the  desire  to  speak  to  the  confes 
sor,  but  only  to  the  friend." 

"What  are  you  saying  about  hardness  of  heart," 


88  Claudio  and  Anita 

said  the  father,  "them  who  art  so  good.  Come, 
calm  thyself,  and  speak  with  moderation,  Anita." 

"How  can  I  avoid  talking  foolishly,  when  the 
spirit  of  evil  possesses  me." 

"Holy  Virgin,  don't  talk  nonsense,  child.  This 
is  dreadful.  But  the  real  trouble  with  you  is,  you 
have  been  ill,  you  are  delirious." 

"Would  to  God  it  were  so." 

"How  is  this,  child?  What  notion  has  entered 
your  mind?" 

Anita  rose  from  her  seat,  drew  near  the  reverend 
father,  and,  with  signs  of  deepest  distress,  in  a 
trembling  voice  said:  "Claudio  has  not  been  near 
me  since  that  memorable  day.  He  loves  me,  and 
I  love  him.  I  love  him,"  she  repeated,  in  higher 
accents. 

"Claudio  told  me  all,"  said  Father  Salvidea. 
"His  love  is  without  hope  now,  a  love  not  to  be 
thought  of.  Calm  thyself.  The  mercy  of  God  is 
infinite." 

"Father,  you  well  know  much  of  what  has  hap 
pened.  What  did  he  say?  Tell  me  all — all.  I 
adore  him,"  Anita  continued,  "and  he  loves  me, 
too,  although  he  strives  to  conquer  his  love,  and  in 
the  end  he  might  succeed  in  doing  so.  You,  father, 
are  very  much  to  blame.  With  the  goodness  of 
your  heart  you  did  nothing  but  praise  Claudio  to 
me."  Then  conscious  of  her  injustice,  she  said, 
"Forgive  me  father,  see  how  perverse  I  am.  I 


"Father,  I  am  Resigned"  89 

want  to  throw  the  responsibility  on  the  best  and 
the  holiest  of  men.  Even  though  you  had  not 
spoken  to  me  of  the  good  qualities  of  Claudio,  I 
should  have  discovered  them  all, — the  grace  of  his 
person,  the  elegance  of  his  manner,  his  eyes  full  of 
fire  and  intelligence.  Your  praises  charmed  me, 
because  they  were  an  echo  of  my  own  thoughts. 
This  inextinguishable  fire  is  consuming  me." 

"Alas,  my  child,"  said  the  father,  "it  grieves  me 
to  hear  you  speak  so."  Anita  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands,  and  began  to  weep.  Anita's  tears 
flowed.  Father  Salvidea  suffered  her  to  weep  with 
out  interruption,  and  watched  her  with  a  look  of 
benignity  which  might  have  characterized  the 
countenance  of  a  guardian  angel. 

When  she  became  tranquil  he  spoke  again,  with 
his  eyes  raised  to  heaven  as  in  prayer,  and  digni 
fied  by  the  pious  solemnity  of  the  saint,  he  said: 
"Claudio  leaves  the  day  after  tomorrow.  He  is 
going  to  fulfill  his  vow." 

"Fullfill  his  vow,"  said  Anita,  "and  give  me 
my  death  wound?  It  shall  not  be!  By  Heaven, 
it  shall  not  be !"  She  had  risen  and  her  attitude, 
her  gesture,  had  something  of  tragic  animation. 

Father  Salvidea  regarded  her  almost  with  ter 
ror.  She  seemed  more  like  an  angry  lioness  than 
a  timid  gazelle.  She  sank  into  a  chair,  weeping 
more  bitterly  than  ever,  abandoning  herself  to 


90  Claudio  and  Anita 

greater  anguish.  The  father's  heart  was  touched 
with  pity. 

"Anita,  child,"  he  said,  "be  reasonable.  Con 
sole  yourself  with  the  thought  that  it  was  not  with 
out  a  hard  struggle  he  was  able  to  control  himself. 
He  loves  you  with  his  whole  heart,  but  God  and 
duty  come  first.  Remember  how  deep  must  be  the 
wound  you  made  in  his  heart,  the  anguish  he  suf 
fered.  Let  this  suffice  you;  be  generous;  be  cour 
ageous;  be  his  rival  in  firmness.  Let  him  depart, 
and  guard  his  image  in  your  memory,  but  as  the 
creature,  reserving  for  the  Creator  the  noblest  part 
of  your  soul.  Control  thyself  for  the  sake  of  our 
Lord  and  His  Blessed  Mother.  Let  Claudio  go. 
When  he  is  far  away,  thou  wilt  recover  thy  ser 
enity  by  degrees,  and  will  preserve  in  thy  memory 
only  a  grateful  recollection  of  him.  As  he  prayed 
in  the  mountain  for  thy  deliverance,  forgetting 
himself  in  his  agony,  he  made  that  vow  to  Heaven. 
He  then  denied  to  himself  the  pleasures  and  pas 
sions  of  this  world,  and  rose  victorious  over  him 
self.  The  remembrance  of  him  will  be  like  a  beau 
tiful  poem,  whose  music  will  harmonize  with 
your  existence." 

"Father,"  Anita  answered,  "thy  holy  words 
lend  me  courage.  I  will  conquer  myself.  I  will, 
I  will  cast  this  love  from  me." 

"Very  well,  my  child;  it  is  thus  I  want  to  see 
you,  courageous  and  resigned." 


"Father,  I  am  Resigned"  91 

"Oh,  father,  I  am  resigned;  for  however  great 
the  effort  I  might  make,  I  could  never  succeed  in 
elevating  myself  to  him.  There  is  no  science  he 
does  not  understand,  no  region  of  the  intellectual 
world,  however  exalted,  to  which  he  may  not  soar, 
while  I  am  incapable  of  following  him,  even  in  my 
hopes  or  aspirations." 

"Anita,  don't  say  such  things,  or  think  them. 
He  is  going  away  because  he  must  fulfill  his  vow." 

Anita  noted  the  convulsion  which  passed  over 
the  father's  face  as  he  said,  "Can  you  realize  what 
loss  the  mission  will  suffer  through  his  leaving4? 
How  I  shall  miss  him !" 

Anita,  who  had  left  off  crying,  said  quietly, 
"Father,  I  am  resigned.  You  shall  see  how  peace 
and  serenity  will  spring  up  in  my  heart,  when 
Claudio  is  gone." 

"God  grant  it,"  said  the  father,  taking  his 
leave.  ^  *  * 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

"I  CANNOT  CURE  YOUR  MISTRESS' 
MALADY." 

[NITA  had  risen  as  the  reverend  father  was 
taking  his  leave.  After  closing  the  door, 
she  stood  for  a  moment  in  the  middle  of 
the  room,  her  gaze  fixed  upon  space.  Then  she 
broke  into  tears  again,  and  threw  herself  on  the 
floor,  her  face  buried  in  her  hands. 


92  Claudio  and  Anita 

Chona  had  heard  her  sobs  from  without,  and 
hurried  to  her.  When  she  saw  her  mistress  on  the 
floor,  she  gave  way  to  a  thousand  expressions  of 
fury.  "Here  is  a  pretty  sight,"  she  cried.  "What 
a  way  to  console  her!" 

Chona  now  carefully  lifted  Anita  in  her  arms 
and  placed  her  on  the  sofa.  "What  is  the  meaning 
of  all  this?"  she  asked.  "I  wager  that  Father  Sal- 
videa  has  been  preaching  you  a  sermon  as  bitter 
as  gall,  and  has  left  you  with  your  heart  torn  to 
pieces  with  grief.  Come,  leave  off  crying,  and  tell 
me  what  is  the  matter.  What  did  he  say  to  you*?" 

"He  said  nothing  that  could  offend  me,"  Anita 
finally  answered.  "The  father  has  advised  me  to 
forget  him;  but  look  you,  Chona,  I  cannot;  it  is 
beyond  my  strength.  While  Father  Salvidea  was 
here,  I  thought  I  had  strength  for  everything;  but 
no  sooner  was  he  gone  than  I  lost  my  courage  and 
fell,  crushed,  to  the  floor.  The  arguments  of 
Father  Salvidea  are  full  of  wisdom,  and  just;  but 
I  love  Claudio,  and  this  argument  is  more  power 
ful  than  all  others  put  together.  God  forgive  me 
for  what  I  am  about  to  say;  but  I  feel  it  in  the 
depth  of  my  heart:  for  him,  I  would  give  even 
the  salvation  of  my  soul !" 

"Madre  Santisima!"  exclaimed  Chona. 

"It  is  true,  may  our  Blessed  Lady  of  Sorrow 
forgive  me.  I  am  mad,  I  blaspheme,"  cried  Anita. 

"Yes,  child,  Heaven  help  us ;  but,  if  I  were  you, 


"I  Cannot  Cure  Tour  Mistress'  Malady"    93 

I  would  not  take  Heaven  to  task.  I  would  have  it 
out  with  him,"  muttered  Chona.  "I  should  like  to 
bring  him  here,  and  make  him  beg  your  pardon 
and  kiss  your  feet." 

"No,  Chona;  I  see  my  madness  is  contagious, 
and  that  you  are  raving,  too.  There  is  nothing  for 
me  to  do,  but  forget  him,  and  I  will,  even  if  it 
costs  me  my  life.  If  I  die,  he  will  cherish  my  mem 
ory  and  my  love  in  his  heart." 

"Dios  EternoT  exclaimed  Chona,  "do  you  want 
me  to  take  out  my  handkerchief,  and  bellow  like 
a  calf?  Anita,  don't  talk  about  dying,  even  in  jest. 
You  are  nervous,  and  very  much  excited.  Can't 
I  bring  you  a  cup  of  azahar  (orange  blossom  tea) 
to  quiet  your  nerves'?" 

"No,  thank  you.  Leave  me  now.  You  see  how 
calm  I  am." 


Cl audio  had  for  a  long  time  been  seated  before 
his  desk  in  deep  thought,  when  he  suddenly  heard 
a  noise  close  by.  He  raised  his  eyes,  and  saw  stand 
ing  before  him  the  meddlesome  Chona,  who  had 
entered  like  a  shadow,  and  was  watching  him  at 
tentively,  with  a  mixture  of  pity  and  anger.  Chona 
had  come  to  have  a  very  serious  conference  with 
Claudio ;  but  she  did  not  quite  know  what  to  say ; 
nevertheless,  she  asked  Heaven  to  loosen  her 
tongue,  and  bestow  upon  her  the  gift  of  speech, — 
not  such  grotesque  and  vulgar  speech  as  she  gen- 


94  Claudio  and  Anita 

erally  used;  but  correct  and  adaptable  to  the  noble 
reflections  and  beautiful  things  she  had  in  her 
mind,  and  wanted  to  express. 

When  Claudio  saw  Chona,  he  frowned,  and 
showed  by  his  manner  how  much  this  visit  dis 
pleased  him,  at  the  same  time  saying,  severely: 
"What  do  you  want  here?" 

"I  have  come  to  call  you  to  account  about  my 
young  mistress,"  answered  Chona,  quietly,  "and 
I  shall  not  go  away  until  you  have  answered  me." 
She  then  drew  a  chair  near  the  table,  and  sat  fac 
ing  Claudio  with  coolness  and  effrontery. 

Seeing  there  was  no  help  for  it,  he  restrained 
his  anger,  and  in  accents  less  harsh  than  before, 
said,  "Say  what  you  have  to  say." 

"I  have  to  say,"  returned  Chona,  "that  you 
have  treated  my  mistress  wickedly;  you  have  be 
witched  her.  The  poor  angel  is  going  to  die.  She 
neither  sleeps  nor  eats,  nor  has  a  moment's  peace, 
on  account  of  you.  Today  she  has  done  nothing 
but  weep.  She  wouldn't  even  take  a  cup  of  azahar 
I  wanted  to  give  her,  to  quiet  her  nerves." 

"Chona,"  returned  Claudio,  "leave  me.  Cease 
to  torture  me.  Dost  thou  imagine  the  sacrifice  I 
have  already  made  is  not  a  tremendous  one?  Anita 
should  arm  herself  with  fortitude,  and  make  a 
similar  one." 

"You  sacrifice  voluntarily  on  the  altar  of  this 
girl,"  replied  Chona. 


"I  Cannot  Cure  Tour  Mistress'  Malady"    95 

Claudio,  confounded,  did  not  know  what  an 
swer  to  return  to  these  arguments  of  Chona;  be 
sides,  it  was  repugnant  to  him  to  discuss  the  meta 
physics  of  love  with  a  servant. 

"Let  us  leave  aside  these  idle  discussions.  I  can 
not  cure  the  malady  of  your  mistress.  What  would 
thou  have  me  do?"  asked  Claudio. 

"I  will  tell  you  what  I  would  have  you  do," 
replied  Chona,  more  gently  and  with  insinuating 
accents.  "If  you  cannot  cure  the  malady  of  my  mis 
tress,  you  should  at  least  alleviate  it  a  little.  Don't 
run  away  without  saying  good-bye.  Come  to  see 
my  mistress,  who  is  sick.  Do  this  work  of  mercy." 

"What  would  be  gained  by  such  a  visit?  It 
would  aggravate  her  malady,  instead  of  curing  it," 
said  Claudio.  "Chona,  it  will  not  do.  You  do 
not  see  the  matter  in  its  proper  light." 

"You  will  go  and  see  her,"  pleaded  Chona,  and 
put  some  resignation  into  her  soul,  and  if  you  tell 
her,  in  addition  to  this,  that  you  love  her  and  that 
it  is  only  for  the  sake  of  God  and  to  fulfill  your 
vow  that  you  are  leaving  her,  her  woman's  vanity, 
at  least,  will  not  be  wounded." 

Claudio  answered :  "What  you  propose  is  dan 
gerous  for  her  and  for  me." 

Chona  replied:  "And  why  should  it  be  danger- 
out?  God  can  see  the  rectitude  of  your  intentions. 
Will  He  not  grant  you  grace  and  His  favor,  that 
you  may  not  yield  to  temptation?  If  she  should 


96  Claudio  and  Anita 

die  of  grief,  at  seeing  herself  scorned,  I  tell  you 
your  remorse  would  be  harder  to  bear  than  the 
flames  of  pitch  and  sulphur  that  surround  the 
cauldrons  of  Lucifer!" 

"This  is  horrible.   I  will  go  to  see  her." 

"May  Heaven  bless  you,  but  my  heart  told  me 
you  would  go." 

"When  do  you  wish  me  to  go*?" 

"Tonight,  at  ten  o'clock,  precisely.  I  will  be  at 
the  front  door  waiting  for  you,  and  will  take  you 
to  her." 

"Does  she  know  you  have  been  to  see  me?" 

"She  does  not.  It  was  all  my  own  idea,  but  I 
will  prepare  her  cautiously,  so  that  the  surprise 
and  joy  of  your  visit  may  not  be  too  much  for 
her." 

"I  will  go.  Good-bye." 

"At  ten  o'clock,  precisely.  I  will  wait  for  you 
at  the  door."  Saying  which  Chona  hurried  away, 
rejoicing  at  her  diplomacy.  She  had  gained  her 
point. 

Claudio  was  so  beside  himself  under  the  influ 
ence  of  contradictory  emotions  which  disputed  the 
possession  of  his  soul  that,  starting  to  his  feet,  he 
paced  the  floor  like  some  wild  animal.  He  need 
ed  nothing  less  than  the  immeasurable  vaults  of 
Heaven  above,  to  elevate  his  thoughts.  Impelled 
by  this  necessity,  he  took  his  hat,  and,  avoiding 


"I  Cannot  Cure  Tour  Mistress'  Malady"    97 

everyone  he  knew,  started  towards  the  hill,  his 
favorite  resort. 

He  came  to  that  hallowed  spot  where  he  had 
suffered  such  agony  of  soul,  coupled  with  that 
ravishing  moment  of  sweetness  and  bliss,  when 
he  had  held  his  beloved  for  one  moment  in  his 
arms.  For  a  moment,  the  thought  held  him  enthral 
led,  as  he  pictured  to  himself  the  loveliness  of  the 
one  he  had  so  adored.  Had  his  vain  heart  wor 
shiped  her  above  his  Creator?  If  so,  his  punish 
ment  was  just.  But  all  those  memories  were  harm 
ful,  and  he  prayed  that  all  should  hasten  past. 

Then,  in  the  disturbance  of  his  conscience,  a 
sacred  voice  spoke:  "Courage!  forward  with  your 


cross !" 


Turning  back,  he  found  himself  in  the  midst 
of  most  enchanting  surroundnigs.  All  this  majes 
tic  beauty  was  his  now;  yet,  all  the  earth,  in  this 
beautiful  and  tranquil  night,  seemed  given  up  to 
melancholy  reflections. 

Engrossed  in  these  meditations,  he  delayed  his 
return,  and  was  some  distance  from  the  Rose  de 
C  as  till  a  when  ten,  the  hour  appointed  for  his  in 
terview  with  Anita,  came.  A  feeling  of  intense 
physical  pain  attacked  his  heart;  still  he  hastened, 
and  presently  found  himself  at  the  ranch.  His 
heart  began  to  beat  with  violence  and  he  stopped 
a  moment  to  recover  his  serenity. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
"I  DESERVE  DEATH,  I  DESIRE  IT!" 


LAUDIO  entered  the  hall.  Chona  was 
awaiting  him.  She  seized  him  by  the  arm 
and  she  continued  to  go  forward,  drag 
ging  him  by  the  arm  after  her.  Claudio,  who  from 
a  child  had  been  accustomed  to  the  respect  and 
consideration  of  the  servants,  dependants  and 
others  around  him  in  his  parents'  home,  who  grati 
fied  his  every  wish,  and  who  had  never  been  op 
posed  in  anything,  but,  on  the  contrary,  humored 
and  flattered,  felt  indignant,  surprised  and  chag 
rined  at  Chona's  insolent  manner.  Nevertheless, 
he  controlled  himself  and  remained  silent. 

Meanwhile,  they  crossed  the  courtyard,  passed 
through  the  corridor,  and  arrived  at  last  at  the 
door  of  the  library,  opening  which  and  announc 
ing  him,  "Here  is  Don  Claudio,  who  has  come  to 
say  adios"  Chona  discreetly  withdrew. 

She  had  told  Anita  that  Claudio  was  coming 
to  take  his  leave  and  Anita  was  weeping,  but 
quickly  dried  her  tears,  began  to  make  herself 
ready  to  receive  him. 

The  interview  began  in  the  most  grave  and  cere 
monious  manner.  Both  found  it  difficult  to  express 
themselves,  but  there  was  nothing  else  to  do  but 
make  the  effort. 
98 


"I  Deserve  Death,  I  Deserve  It!"         99 

Anita  began :  "I  had  already  given  up  hope  that 
you  would  come." 

"Father  Salvidea  and  I  came ;  we  were  told  that 
you  were  ill,  and  I  have  sent  every  day  since  to 
inquire  for  you.  I  was  greatly  pleased  to  learn 
you  were  improving.  I  hope  that  you  are  better." 

"I  am  much  better,  thank  you." 

"My  adieus  now  must  be  perhaps  final." 

Anita's  habit  of  concealing  her  feelings,  which 
served  as  a  restraint  to  the  paroxysms  of  grief 
and  passion,  had  no  power  with  her  now.  Thus, 
on  this  occasion,  she  would  speak  with  frankness. 
Still,  with  a  palpitaing  heart  that  swept  aside 
all  thought  of  maidenly  reserve,  and  spurred  on 
by  the  exigency  of  the  hour,  she  exclaimed :  "Clau- 
dio!" 

But  breathless,  she  stopped.  What  was  she  go 
ing  to  say  to  him?  She  paused  for  a  moment,  and 
forced  herself  to  be  calm. 

"Claudio,"  she  repeated,  "I  am  going  to  make 
a  supreme  effort  to  speak  to  you  frankly.  Those 
terrible  agonies  I  have  experienced,  and  the  seri 
ous  reasoning  I  have  forced  myself  to  make  dur 
ing  my  illness,  have  changed  me.  I  am  no  longer 
like  the  timid  gazelle.  I  have  been  encompassed 
by  the  pangs  of  death.  Can  you  not  see  that  you 
in  going  to  the  fulfillment  of  your  vow  will  offer 
a  bloodless  sacrifice,  and  will  pitilessly  sacrifice 
her  who  most  loves  you4?" 


100  Claudio  and  Anita 

"I,  too,  Anita,"  returned  Claudio,  endeavoring 
to  conquer  his  emotions,  "have  suffered.  But  since 
God  in  His  mercy  heard  my  soul-rending  prayer 
for  your  deliverance,  I  have  sought  to  die  to  my 
self;  to  free,  not  only  my  senses,  but  even  my  soul 
itself  from  earthly  affection,  in  order  to  fulfill  that 
most  sacred  and  solemn  vow.  Now  you  upbraid 
me.  In  doing  so,  you  forget  yourself.  O,  Anita, 
forgive  me !  I  loved  you  before  I  saw  you.  In  a 
vision  of  my  dream  there  arose  in  my  soul  the 
faithful  image  of  the  living  beauty,  which  is  the 
essence  of  that  soul  which  is  above  all  the  dreams 
of  my  imagination,  and  the  reality  such  as  I  be 
held  in  you,  enthroned  itself.  Long  before  I  saw 
you,  I  was  conscious  of  loving  you.  I  loved  you. 
There  may  be  something  mysterious,  something 
supernatural  in  this." 

"I,  too,  believe  that  I  loved  you  before  I  saw 
you.  I  had  a  presentiment,  when  they  told  me  you 
had  arrived  at  the  mission.  If  love  is  as  you  say, 
I  have  died  to  myself,  and  live  only  in  you  and 
for  you.  I  have  prayed  to  the  Virgin  Mary  to  blot 
your  image  from  my  soul,  and  my  prayer  has  been 
in  vain.  Your  love  must  be  protected  by  vigorous 
and  lofty  thoughts,  a  love  that  I  am  neither  wor 
thy  of,  nor  capable  of  sharing,  nor  even  able  to 
understand. 

"Anita,  it  is  not  that  your  love  is  less  than  mine, 
but  that  it  is  free  from  obligation,  and  mine  is  not. 


"/  Deserve  Death,  I  Deserve  It!"        101 

The  love  you  have  inspired  is  profound,  but  my 
obligations,  my  vows,  contend  against  it." 

"I  deserve  death,  I  desire  it!  My  father  pro 
nounced  the  sentence  on  me,  in  his  violent  desire 
that  I  should  do  his  bidding.  He  traded  me,  as  it 
were.  My  rule  of  conduct,  then,  was  to  obey  my 
parents  blindly.  Now  I  wish  to  die.  And  my 
spirit,  set  free,  will  follow  you,  invisible,  by  your 
side/' 

Swiftly  the  picture  came  back  to  his  mind, — of 
the  child-like  face  uplifted  to  his,  as  she  said: 
"Claudio,  in  this  life  and  after  death  my  love  will 
still  abide."  His  eyes  softened  as  the  scene  came 
before  him. 

"But  in  this  life,  it  cannot  be,"  continued  Anita, 
"I  love  thee  not  only  in  the  soul,  but  thy  very  sha 
dow,  thy  name,  and  all  that  goes  to  make  thee  such 
as  thou  art,  Cl audio  Lopez.  I  repeat,  that  thou 
kill  me,  kill  me,  without  compassion." 

"Anita,  don't,"  Claudio  said,  his  upturned  face 
eloquent  with  appeal.  "You  forget  that  you,  on 
that  eventful  day,  charged  me  to  keep  my  vow ;  for 
the  consequence  of  breaking  such  a  vow  would  be 
fatal  to  my  soul,  and  now  thou  wouldst  have  me 
break  it." 

"Yes,  yes.  But  I  am  a  Christian  no  longer.  I 
am  a  material  idolator." 

Here  she  made  a  long  pause,  tears  bathing  her 
cheeks.  Becoming  calmer  and  drying  her  eyes,  she 


102  Claudio  and  Anita 

looked  at  him  and  saw  the  expression  of  strength 
and  self-reliance,  raised  and  dignified  by  supreme 
self-mastery. 

"By  this  just  contempt,  thou  wilt  kill  me,"  she 
cried,  "more  surely  than  with  a  dagger."  And  with 
a  stifled  cry  she  turned  away. 

Startled  by  the  passionate  words  "thou  wilt 
kill  me",  he  looked  at  her  and  saw  before  him  a 
miracle  of  transformation,  from  the  child-like  face 
to  the  face  of  a  woman,  radiant,  with  eyes  full  of 
fire.  The  noble  hauteur  of  her  pale  brow,  the  dig 
nity  of  her  bearing,  her  grace,  and  charm,  wrung 
admiration  from  his  heart  and  stirred  the  very 
depths  of  his  soul.  His  heart  yearned  for  her;  all, 
all  was  forgotten;  for  his  love,  the  strongest  of 
human  elements,  dominated  and  swept  all  before 
him;  yet  he  could  not  break  his  vow,  nothing  but 
unhappiness  and  disaster  would  be  their  lot  under 
the  shadow  of  a  broken  vow. 

Who  could  comprehend  Claudio' s  hard  tempta 
tion?  Who  could  blame  him  if  he  fell?  But  with 
an  immense  effort,  his  will  mastering  his  desire, 
he  murmured,  "Anita,  farewell,  forever!"  and 
took  her  hand,  touching  it  with  his  lips. 

"Stay,  I  plead  thee,  Claudio,  and  finish  the 
work  thou  hast  begun.  I  vow  I'll  not  cross  thy 
path,"  said  Anita,  as  she  left  him. 

Everything  was  still  at  the  Rosa  de  Castilla, 


"7  Deserve  Death,  I  Deserve  It!"        103 

save  the  murmur  of  the  fountain  in  the  garden, 
and  the  faint  echo  of  music  and  song  in  the  serv 
ants'  quarters  in  celebration  of  El  Dia  de  San 
Juan,  as  Claudio  stepped  out  into  the  courtyard 
and  made  his  way  to  where  Chona  was  waiting 

to  let  him  out. 

It     ft     1C 

CHAPTER  XV. 

"TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  THEE,  SANTA 
ANITA." 

O  Anita,  alone  in  her  room  when  the  last 
notes  in  the  servants'  quarters  had  died 
away  and  she  had  dismissed  Chona,  de 
spair  and  oppression  returned  redoubled.  Finally, 
exhausted,  she  fell  into  a  restless  sleep. 

Next  morning  she  awoke  heavy-hearted.  A 
strange  presentment  possessed  her,  and  the  dark 
ened  walls  and  ceiling  and  floor  seemed  fairly  to 
close  in  upon,  to  hedge  in,  soul  and  brain.  It 
was  the  first  time  the  girl  had  felt  the  need,  the 
driving  desire,  to  be  alone,  out  of  doors,  where 
there  was  nothing  but  sky  and  space  to  bind  her 
thoughts. 

At  last,  when  her  restlessness  became  unbearable 
and  whilst  the  remainder  of  the  household  were 
still  asleep,  she  arose,  dressed  hurriedly,  and  went 
out  to  order  a  not-too-wide-awake  page  to  saddle 


104  Claudio  and  Anita 

her  horse.  She  rode  hard,  at  first,  but  shortly, 
pulling  up  her  horse  to  a  walk,  turned  toward  the 
hills. 

Anita's  presence  upon  that  hill  that  morning 
was  unpremeditated.  Even  though  she  turned 
her  mount  into  that  mountain  bridle  path,  the 
choice  had  been  made  without  actual  thought  of 
the  road  which  she  was  selecting,  and  yet  uncon 
sciously  the  choice  had  brought  her  to  the  place 
for  which  both  brain  and  spirit  were  ahunger, — to 
the  scenes  which  held  such  poignant  memories; 
the  cove  in  the  hillside  where,  under  that  great 
projecting  rock,  he  had  found  her,  the  vision  of  his 
dream,  on  that  memorable  morning.  She  stopped 
her  horse.  An  impulse  came  to  her, — a  swift  and 
blind  desire  to  climb  to  the  summit  of  that  rock, — • 
and  she  finally  succeeded  in  doing  so  after  much 
effort. 

As  she  stood  on  the  summit,  everything  else  for 
the  moment  forgotten,  she  tried  to  recall  the  gen 
tleness  of  his  hands  when  he  was  fastening  her 
cloak  beneath  her  chin  as  the  evening  dews  were 
making  the  air  chill  on  the  day  of  the  picnic,  when 
they  were  waiting  for  the  rest  of  the  party  who 
had  strayed  away  and  he  was  begging  her  to  let 
him  take  her  home  before  it  became  too  dark. 
Again,  she  felt  his  arms  around  her,  as  they  were 
saying  their  last  adieus,  as  they  both  thought,  and 
hundreds  of  other  sweet  and  tender  memories  pass- 


"<fo  the  Memory  of  Thee,  Santa  Anita"    105 

ed  before  her.  And  when  the  later  morning  found 
her  still  standing  there,  surveying  the  beauty  of 
the  scene  below, — peace  and  silence, — within  her 
bosom  a  fierce  storm  raged. 

"Hope  deserts  me;  dark  seems  the  future,"  she 
mused.  "Farewell,  dear  love !  Since  thou  wilt 
need  be  gone,  mine  eyes  do  show  me  my  life  is 
almost  done." 

Chona  had  taken  a  cup  of  chocolate  to  her  mis 
tress'  room,  as  usual,  but  found  she  had  risen,  and 
was  much  alarmed,  for  she  had  never  before  known 
Anita  to  leave  the  house  alone.  Chona  had  her 
horse  saddled,  and  hurried  away.  As  she  came 
well  within  sight  of  the  rocky  point,  she  saw  Anita 
standing  on  the  very  edge  of  the  rock. 

"Anita!"  she  cried,  in  alarm.  The  girl  gave  a 
step  backwards,  raised  her  arms,  and  fell  over  the 
ragged  edge  onto  the  boulders  below. 

At  the  sight,  Chona  became  paralyzed  with  ter 
ror,  but  recovering  herself,  rushed  to  the  spot  and 
found  her  mistress  unconscious.  Finding  herself 
helpless  to  aid  her,  she  hurried  back  to  the  house 
and  gave  the  alarm. 

Anita's  father,  who  was  just  about  to  leave,  was 
the  first  to  learn  of  the  terrible  accident.  He 
rushed  with  all  speed  to  the  spot,  and  with  a  groan 
that  shook  his  tall  frame,  bent  over  his  child  and 
moaned  her  name:  "Anita,  Anita,  nina  mia,  mi 


106  Claudia  and  Anita 

vida,  speak  to  thy  father,"  and  kissed  her  brow 
over  and  over  again.  He  lifted  her  tenderly  in  his 
arms,  courteously  declining  all  offers  of  assistance 
from  friends  and  neighbors,  who  had  hurried  to 
the  scene  on  learning  of  the  accident.  His  hag 
gard  and  set  look  told,  plainer  than  words,  the 
awful  agony  he  was  suffering.  Yet,  he  was  pos 
sessed  of  that  calmness  which  comes  to  brave  men 
in  supreme  moments. 

Some  of  the  neighbors,  nevertheless,  hastened 
to  summon  Father  Salvidea,  others  to  acquaint 
Claudio  with  the  sad  news.  Claudio  immediately 
hastened  to  the  house,  arriving  just  as  Anita's 
father  came,  bearing  his  precious  burden,  sense 
less,  in  his  arms. 

Claudio  turned  back,  as  he  felt  a  dizziness  over 
come  him,  remaining  on  the  veranda.  Presently 
Father  Salvidea  came  out. 

"Father,  father,  is  she  dead?"  he  cried. 

"No,  not  dead,"  said  Father  Salvidea,  "thank 
God."  Then  he  looked  about  him,  as  if  he  had 
suddenly  wakened  from  a  deep  sleep.  "Will  you 
let  me  know  how, — how,"  but  Claudio  could  not 
proceed. 

"You  shall  know  soon,"  Father  Salvidea  said. 
"But  you  must  go  in  the  house  and  lie  down,"  he 
continued,  as  he  noted  Claudio's  pale  and  drawn 
features. 


CiCfo  the  Memory  of  tfkee,  Santa  Anita"    107 

"I  will  obey  you,  father,"  said  Claudio,  as  he 
staggered  in  and  fell  into  a  seat. 

He  did  not  know  how  long  he  had  remained 
there,  when  he  heard  his  name  called,  and  was 
told  that  Anita  wished  to  see  him. 

With  an  effort,  he  recovered  his  composure,  and 
was  soon  at  her  bedside,  crying,  "My  beautiful 
Anita,  my  life,  my  love,  if  it  were  only  me !" 

"No,  Claudio,"  said  she.  "The  mission,  the 
country,  need  you.  Promise  me,  Claudio  mio, 
thou  wilt  stay  and  finish  the  work  thou  has  per 
formed  so  worthily." 

Her  voice  was  low,  yet  clear  and  sweet,  as  she 
continued:  "Always  a  worthy  son  of  thy  noble 
sire,  thou  must  be." 

"I  promise,"  he  said,  and  stooping  over,  he  took 
her  little  hands  in  his  own,  pressing  them  to  his 
heart  with  mingled  tenderness  and  reverence,  and 
kissed  them  again  and  again. 

"If  I  have  performed  my  duty  worthily,  thou 
wast  my  inspiration,  beloved,"  he  said. 

Anita  was  enraptured  by  Claudio's  restoration 
to  her.  "The  Lord  in  His  mercy  has  granted  me 
this  delight,"  she  said;  "for  He  has  brought  thee 
to  my  side  again  like  thy  dear  old  self.  Claudio 
mio,  do  you  remember  when,  on  one  of  our  happy 
rambles  over  the  hills,  we  said  our  love  was  im 
mortal*?  Beloved,  my  love,  after  death,  will  live 
on,  forever." 


108  Claudio  and  Anita 

Claudio  glanced  into  Anita's  eyes,  and  she 
smiled  sweetly  and  said:  "I  know  I  am  going.  I 
am  ready  to  go.  My  soul  is  at  peace  with  my 
Creator.  Father  Salvidea  has  given  me  his  bless 
ing.  And  you  have  made  it  joyous,  with  your 
love." 

Anita's  strength  was  rapidly  departing,  and  the 
death  she  craved  was  near  at  hand,  but  she  con 
tinued  :  "I  complain  not  of  my  fate.  Heaven  has 
willed  it  so." 

Claudio  bent  down  and  reverently  kissed  the 
girl's  brow.  On  her  face  a  great  beauty  shone,  as 
her  glorious  spirit  ascended  Heavenward  amidst  a 
luminous  silvery  cloud. 

Anita's  father  and  mother  knelt  by  her  bedside, 
the  mother  with  ashen-pale  lips,  and  the  father 
with  majestic  form,  shrunken  by  his  heavy  sorrow. 
Chona  was  frantic. 

Claudio  stood  and  gazed  for  a  moment  on  his 
beloved's  fair  brow,  and  then  turned  to  Father 
Salvidea,  in  agonized  tones  crying:  "Father, 
father,  I  want  to  follow  her  spirit  beyond!  Is 
there  a  way,  father4?" 

"No,  Claudio,"  replied  the  good  father,  "God 
has  work  for  you  to  do.  You  have  been  called  to 
labor  in  your  Master's  vineyard,  my  son,  and 
when  God  calls  you  to  His  fold,  you  will  join  her 
pure  spirit  above." 

A  great  sigh  escaped  Claudio's  lips,  as  Father 


iicfo  the  Memory  of  tfkee,  Santa  Anita"    109 

Salvidea  was  speaking,  and  a  rush  of  scalding 
tears  blinded  his  eyes.  With  a  great  sob  of  agon)-, 
his  head  fell  forward  into  his  folded  arms. 

Father  Salvidea  walked  towards  him,  and  gen 
tly  laying  his  hands  on  his  head  said :  "Never  dk! 
a  purer  soul  ascend  to  its  Creator.  My  son,  dedi 
cate  that  beautiful  domain,  the  reward  of  )rour 
labor,  as  a  monument  to  her  memory." 

Inspired  by  the  reverend  father's  words,  Clau- 
dio  arose,  and  said:  "Would  that  I  could  raise  to 
her  a  monument  of  gold.  This  domain,  the  boun 
tiful  gift  of  my  gracious  king  of  Spain.  I  dedicate 
to  the  memory  of  thee,  Santa  Anita." 


BOOK  II. 


CHAPTER  I. 
THESE  AND  OTHER  PAGES 

[HE  following  and  other  pages  of  his  diary 
were  found  in  one  of  the  rooms  of  Don 
Claudio's  Santa  Anita  ranch  house  after 
his  death.  There  were  many  others,  but  these  were 
selected,  because  they  pertain  to  the  story,  at  the 
time  of  the  secularization  of  the  Missions : 

"April  the  fourth — Now  my  thoughts  have  long 
been  wandering  from  my  diary  before  me  to  this 
gloom  and  desolation.  Is  this  the  end  of  our 
hopes,  this  the  end  of  long  years  of  arduous  labor 
and  sacrifices?  What  will  be  the  end  of  all  this6? 
The  palsying  thought,  indeed,  takes  possession  of 
my  soul ;  I  tremble  at  the  approach  of  every  horse 
man,  fearing  news  of  fresh  depredations ;  the  very 
air  seems  noxious  with  debauchery  and  crime. 

"April  the  eighth — The  faithful  neophites  who 
remain  send  appealing  messages  to  me  for  help. 
It  pierces  me  to  the  soul ;  for  alas !  I  deplore  my 
inability  to  subdue  this  wild  whirlpool  of  crimes ; 
yet  I  must  act  with  the  noble  and  reverend  Father 
de  Salvidea,  with  courage,  pity  and  love. 

"California,  the  treasured  child  of  Spain,  nour- 

113 


114  Claudio  and  Anita 

ished  by  goodness,  wisdom,  truth,  and  all  that  is 
divine;  and  to  whom  many  of  her  pious  subjects 
gave  so  generously  of  their  gold  to  help  in  the 
work  of  civilization ;  and  to  me  sacred  with  mem 
ories  of  the  past,  is  taken  possession  of  by  Mexico, 
whose  rulers  are  despoiling  and  debauching  her 
to  their  greed. 

"April  twenty-eighth — Father  de  Salvidea  en 
deavors  to  rouse  me  from  the  gloom  into  which  I 
have  fallen.  He  tells  me  that  as  a  knight  of  the 
cross  I  must  not  waste  the  rest  of  my  life  in  selfish 
brooding.  With  God's  help  I  will  do  his  bidding. 

"Father  Almighty,  I  pray  Thee,  help  me  to  lift 
my  thoughts  above  worldly  cares  and  passions; 
give  me  strength  to  bear  my  sorrows !" 

"May  the  first — I  often  see  Father  de  Salvidea's 
cowled  figure,  stately  and  dignified,  pacing  the 
veranda  in  the  courtyard  of  the  mission,  praying 
that  God  may  subdue  his  proud  spirit,  that  he 
might  humbly  submit  to  the  rule  of  the  Sacatecas 
Friars,  who  were  sent  from  Mexico  as  his  superi 
ors.  'His  superiors/  ah!  what  mockery!  His  poor 
heart,  too,  is  racked  with  pain  at  the  continuance 
of  things  which  he  has  not  the  power  to  alter;  yet, 
I  often  have  seen  him  by  the  side  of  a  dying  neo- 
phite  who  was  stricken  in  the  turmoil,  adminis 
tering  the  last  sacraments  with  the  same  mild  and 
loving  look;  yet  he  looked  in  agony  on  those  who 


fhese  and  Other  Pages  115 

stood  near  by  those  painful  scenes,  as  if  warning 
them  of  a  like  fate. 

"May  the  third — The  face  of  revelry  is  torpid 
in  the  shadow  of  the  night.  Who  knows  what 
the  morrow  will  bring.  Nothing  but  heart-rending 
scenes.  I  must  away,  where  at  least  I  can  find 
peace;  there  is  nothing  for  me  here, — nothing! 
And  yet,  am  I  so  distracted,  so  lacking  courage, 
that  I  would  flee  from  the  scenes  of  pain  and  hor 
ror.  Still,  this  inaction  I  cannot  endure;  it  is  un 
bearable.  I  will  wait  yet  a  little  longer. 

"May  the  fifth — Father  Salvidea  tells  me  it  is 
best  to  store  the  art  treasures  that  are  in  the  salons 
and  the  guest  rooms,  These  were  sent  to  him  by 
friends  and  relations  (people  of  great  wealth)  for 
the  purpose  of  cheering  him  in  this  wild  and  far 
away  land. 

"May  the  sixth — Today  I  have,  with  my  own 
hands,  stored  away  Father  de  Salvidea's  art  treas 
ures, — treasures  which  would  delight  a  nation; 
carefully  each  painting  was  laid  away, — some  of* 
the  paintings  by  old  masters.  My  eyes  lingered 
long  on  the  Gobelin  Tapestry  which  alone  would 
grace  a  King's  gallery.  The  solid  silver  service, 
presented  to  him  by  his  king,  his  manuscripts, — 
which  will  be  his  noblest  monuments, — volumes 
of  rare  works,  statuary,  etc.,  I  put  away;  and  some 
of  my  own  trinkets,  manuscripts  and  valuable  doc 
uments,  I  stored  together  with  his.  After  the  work 


116  Claudio  and  Anita 

of  storing  is  finished  I  will  move  to  my  Santa  An 
ita  ranch,  and  there  await  results. 

"May  the  tenth — In  vain  I  try  to  sleep.  All 
that  has  happened  in  the  past  years  come  rushing 
into  my  fevered  brain.  I  will  dress  me  and  walk 
in  the  open  air;  I  will  find  peace  in  the  calm  of  the 
wooded  hills. 

"Never  was  a  night  so  still;  never  a  sky  so 
deeply  blue.  A  star  of  rare  brilliancy  comes  twin 
kling  over  the  tree  tops;  how  beautiful,  how 
grand!  My  spirit  is  filled  with  the  grandeur  of 
the  scene  around  me;  the  exceeding  loveliness  and 
beauty  of  it  all.  To  me  it  is  fragrant  with  the 
memory  of  the  brightest  hours  of  my  life.  Yet  I 
must  leave  thee,  Paradise;  thus  leave  thee,  dear 
land,  happy  walks  and  shadows.  Anita,  beloved, 
it  is  vain  to  ask  thee,  for  I  know  thou  canst  not 
hear;  yet  my  prayer  will  be  heard  and  will  carry 
my  message  to  thee.  I  pray  in  my  longing  for  a 
sign. 

"The  leaves  of  the  oak,  at  hand,  stirred  and 
fluttered  in  a  gentle  breeze.  In  the  meantime  a 
voice  was  heard  by  me,  so  softly,  in  a  whisper — 
'Go!  It  is  your  destiny!'  Is  this  thy  spirit,  my 
angel*?  The  answer,  so  sure,  so  clear,  'Yes',  I  am 
convinced;  all  my  doubts  are  swept  away,  abso 
lute  peace  possesses  my  soul;  so  that  it  strength 
ens  me.  A  strange  quietness  steals  over  me;  so, 
with  my  spirit  strengthened  I  will  once  more  to 


These  and  Other  Pages  117 

my  bed  and  repose.  Tomorrow — or  is  it  today? — 
I  will  speak  to  Father  de  Salvidea  of  my  resolve. 
"May  the  twentieth — Today  I  consulted  with 
Father  de  Salvidea  in  reference  to  my  wish  to  re 
move  to  Los  Angeles.  A  smile  of  strange  sadness 
clouded  his  face  as  he  said :  'Go,  my  son,  but  oh ! 
do  not  let  thy  trust  in  God  weaken.  Our  labors 
will  yet  bear  fruit;  we  may  not  see  it;  but  it  will 
come,  though  it  may  be  one  hundred  years  com 
ing.  Thou  wilt  still  be  near  us;  Los  Angeles  is 
only  nine  miles  distant;  should  we  need  thee,  we 
will  send  a  messenger." 

ft    ft    ft 

CHAPTER  II. 
DON  CLAUDIO  MOVES  TO  LOS  ANGELES 

[UNE  the  first  —  Farewell,  San  Gabriel, 
thou  splendor  of  an  earthly  Paraside;  I 
leave  thee  now,  to  enter  another  life.   My 
life  is  of  no  more  use  here. 

"I  leave  now  the  scenes  of  my  youthful  love.  I 
love  and  hold  sacred  every  path,  every  trail,  thy 
blessed  feet  have  trod,  Anita.  Here  where  thy 
winsome  child-face  was  upturned  to  mine,  that 
glance,  that  glorious  smile  flashed  into  my  soul; 
my  heart  spoke  its  love  and  you  promised  to  be 
mine,  O  that,  my  happiest  day !  and  again  on  that 
same,  never-to-be-forgotten  day,  when  thy  soft, 


118  Claudio  and  Anita 

dark,  earnest  eyes  uplifted  to  the  pale  moon  above, 
and  with  a  sweet  expression  on  thy  pensive  face 
thou  saidst,  'what  will  our  world  be  a  hundred 
years  from  now?'  I,  with  the  ardour  of  my  youth, 
fired  by  thy  inspiration,  spoke  the  ambitions  of 
my  heart. 

"Years  of  vain  toil  and  care  have  passed;  yet  I 
complain  not.  To  have  known  and  loved  thee, 
Anita,  and  the  cause  for  which  I  worked  is  my 
solace  and  my  recompense.  Here,  at  the  foot  of 
thy  monument,  I  do  avow  I  have  striven  to  do 
thy  bidding,  when,  with  thy  last  breath,  thou 
didst  charge  me  to  remain  and  continue  the  work 
I  had  begun.  I  promised  thee  then;  with  a  smile 
of  perfect  happiness,  mirrored  on  thy  tranquil 
beauty,  thy  pure  spirit  passed  away  in  a  glowing 
cloud  to  our  Father's  home  on  high.  Oh !  Is  there 
any  misery  to  be  compared  to  my  continual  grief? 
Here,  in  the  calm  beauty  of  the  hills,  under  the 
dome  of  heaven,  is  thy  monument,  Anita,  dedi 
cated  to  thy  memory,  to  me  the  dearest  and  holiest 
spot  on  earth.  Santa  Anita,  farewell!" 

Don  Claudio  moved  about,  giving  orders  for 
the  packing,  with  an  undercurrent  of  agitation  and 
sadness,  unseen  in  his  face,  step,  motion  or  gest 
ure.  The  grief  he  felt  at  leaving  his  beloved  San 
Gabriel  and  his  Santa  Anita  home  would  have 
been  his  undoing,  but  for  a  thing  bigger  than  him 
self,  a  passion  to  do  big  things.  In  Los  Angeles, 


Don  Claudio  Moves  to  Los  Angeles     119 

he  soon  gathered  an  army  of  men  and  set  them  to 
planting  orchards  and  vineyards,  erected  several 
buildings ;  and  still  found  time  to  often  ride  to  San 
Gabriel,  rendering  to  Father  de  Salvidea  what  aid 
he  could. 

FOUR  YEARS  AFTER 

"Father  de  Salvidea  tells  me,"  Don  Claudio  re 
corded,  "that  at  Anita's  death  my  vow  was  ful 
filled;  therefore,  I  will  give  my  life  to  a  purpose, 
— that  of  making  another  happy.  Because  Maria 
Louisa,  a  gentle  and  lovely  girl,  truly  loves  me,  I 
will  make  her  my  wife.  She  knows  my  sorrow, 
and  is  willing  to  share  my  gloomy  life.  This  love, 
bestowed  upon  me,  I  will  cherish,  and,  with  all 
my  soul,  I  pray  that  I  may  make  this  trustful  girl 
happy.  Yet  thy  memory  I  will  venerate,  Anita, 
thou  glorious  vision  of  my  youth." 

'Some  time  after,  Don  Claudio  was  married  to 
Maria  Louisa  Coto,  a  cousin  of  Anita's,  and,  like 
Anita,  a  beautiful  girl  with  blue  eyes  and  golden 
hair.  He  apparently  lived  in  contentment  the  rest 
of  his  life. 

Don  Claudio  sat  on  the  veranda  of  his  Los  An 
geles  home,  watching  the  same  eternal  sun,  declin 
ing  into  the  evening  frame  of  the  misty  clouds 
arising  from  the  Pacific,  his  mind  dwelling  on  the 
world  he  had  left  behind  beyond  the  Atlantic. 


120  Claudio  and  Anita 

Memories  came  trooping  back  of  the  pleasures  of 
his  gay,  frivolous,  yet  happy  youth;  and,  on  this 
side  of  the  Atlantic,  the  strange  adventures  and 
years  of  useless  toil.  What  would  be  the  ultimate 
destiny  of  this  land  in  which  he  toiled?  While 
no  thought  of  the  end  was  in  his  mind  that  even 
ing,  yet  he  was  not  without  some  presentment  of 
the  closing  scene.  Thus  he  sat  pondering,  when 
he  heard  the  fast  thumping  of  hoofs.  The  next 
moment  a  horseman  halted  before  him,  his  horse 
in  a  lather  of  sweat.  He  quickly  dismounted 
and  handed  Don  Claudio  a  letter.  "A  pressing 
message  from  Father  Sanchez,"  he  said.  Don 
Claudio  seized  the  letter,  opened  and  read  it. 
Springing  up,  he  read  and  reread  it  with  strain 
ing  eyes,  walked  forward  a  few  steps,  and  then 
turning  to  the  messenger  said  : 


CHAPTER  III. 
A  HURRIED  SUMMONS  TO  SAN  GABRIEL 


ELL  Juan  to  saddle  two  of  my  speediest 
horses  and  bring  them  up  without  delay !" 
This  done,  he  mounted,  and  ordered  his 
man  to  follow.  The  steeds  broke  into  a  fast  run 
toward  the  mission. 

The  letter  said  in  part:     "Every  vestige  of  re 
straint  on  the  part  of  the  rioters  has  vanished. 


Don  Claudio  Moves  to  Los  Angeles     121 

They  have  set  fire  to  the  store  rooms.    Your  pres 
ence  might  avert  a  great  peril  that  threatens." 

The  serious  alarm,  which  Father  Sanchez'  let 
ter  aroused,  possessed  Don  Claudio.  It  filled  him 
with  consternation.  The  unveiled  peril,  that  he 
was  called  to  avert,  what  was  it4?  Great  heavens ! 
Would  he  reach  the  mission  in  time  before  the 
fire  reached  the  storerooms  ?  For  a  moment  despair 
seized  his  soul,  and  the  thin  columns  of  smoke, 
rising  over  the  hills,  promised  but  a  ray  of  hope. 
He  urged  his  foaming  horse  to  a  faster  run,  and, 
dizzy  with  anxiety,  neared  the  mission..  A  wail 
of  instruments,  wild  and  discordant,  fell  upon  his 
ears  as  he  approached.  The  revelry  roared  louder. 
Threats,  half  in  earnest  and  half  jocular,  were 
heard  above  the  clamor. 

The  Padres'  voices,  lifted  loud,  were  strained, 
as  if  striving  to  be  heard  above  the  uproar.  Shrieks 
and  ribald  laughter  pierced  the  air.  Without  a 
word  or  an  instant's  hesitation,  Don  Claudio 
plunged  through  the  rioters  and  stopped  before 
the  ruined  wall  of  the  storeroom.  Leaping  from 
his  horse  and  throwing  the  reins  to  his  man,  he 
walked  around  the  wall  to  the  spot  where  he  had 
stored  Father  de  Salvidea's  art  treasures,  rare 
works,  and  priceless  manuscripts.  (These  were  a 
great  loss  to  mankind,  as  Father  de  Salvidea  was 
known  to  be  a  literary  genius.)  Also  his  own 
(Don  Claudio's)  manuscripts,  documents  and 


122  Claudio  and  Anita 

grants,  which  had  been  stored  in  the  same  place. 
He  stood  for  a  moment,  looking  at  the  broken 
fragments  of  iron-clamped  chests  that  remained 
above  the  ashes.  A  cry  of  horror  escaped  his  dry 
lips.  Suddenly  he  raised  his  hand  to  his  forehead, 
and  fell  prostrate.  Father  Sanchez  was  instantly 
summoned.  He  hurried  to  the  prostrate  form, 
and,  without  a  word,  dropped  to  his  knees,  thrust 
his  hand  under  the  vest  and  felt  Don  Claudio's 
heart.  It  was  beating,  but  weakly.  The  good 
Father  administered  the  last  rites  of  the  Church. 
Very  tenderly  Don  Claudio  was  lifted,  carried 
into  the  priest's  house,  and  laid  upon  a  couch. 

A  murmur  spread  in  every  direction  among  the 
rioters, — a  murmur  that  was  little  more  than  a 
whisper;  "Don  Claudio  had  dropped  dead!"  The 
half-maddened,  murderous  rioters  halted  in  their 
surprise.  A  panic  seized  them  as  the  news  reached 
them.  They  were  just  in  the  atrocious  act  of  set 
ting  fire  to  the  altar,  as  a  preliminary  to  destroy 
ing  the  holy  vestments  and  pictures,  and  demolish 
ing  the  church.  In  horror  and  superstitious  fear, 
the  terrified  rioters  crept  close  to  one  another,  but 
when  Don  Claudio  was  borne  by  they  parted  to 
right  and  left,  bared  their  heads,  and  folded  their 
arms.  Don  Claudio  had  been  their  idol  in  times 
gone  by.  A  few  of  the  more  vicious  howled  their 
disappointment,  and  raged  at  being  cheated  of 
blood  and  spoil,  and  wished  to  continue;  but  the 


Don  Claudio  Moves  to  Los -Angeles     123 

more  temperate  soon  overcame  them,  and  quiet 
reigned  again. 

Don  Claudio  expired  the  second  day  following 
the  attack — January  the  first,  1833 — without  re 
gaining  consciousness,  and  was  buried  inside  the 
church  under  the  holy  water  fount. 

"We  tell  thy  doom  without  a  sigh; 
For  thou  art  freedom's  now  and  fame's ; 
One  of  the  few,  the  immortal  names 
That  were  not  born  to  die ; 
A  life  of  honor  and  of  worth 
Has  no  eternity  on  earth." 

*    *    n 
CHAPTER  IV. 

FATHER  SANCHEZ'  ADDRESS  TO  THE 
NEOPHITES 

[HERE  lies  the  remains  of  Don  Claudio, 
your  kind  and  gentle  master.  He  came  to 
you  in  the  vigor  of  his  youth  and  gave  the 
remainder  of  his  life  to  you,  teaching  you  the  arts 
and  industries  which  you  now  know.  He  strove 
to  make  you  self-supporting,  and  of  value  to  the 
community  as  well  as  to  yourselves. 

"Now  while  yet  in  the  vigor  of  his  manhood, 
you  rioters  have  killed  him;  killed  your  benefac 
tor  just  as  sure  as  if  each  one  of  you  had  plunged 
your  dagger  into  his  noble  heart. 


124  Claudio  and  Anita 

"The  scenes  and  atrocities  which  took  place  in 
this  mission  two  days  ago;  the  anguish  it  caused 
him  like  a  dagger,  I  know,  pierced  his  true  heart; 
and  in  mortal  sorrow  died,  one  of  the  noblest 
among  men,  our  best  loved  Don  Claudio." 

Father  Sanchez'  voice  broke  with  a  sob;  men, 
women,  and  children  moaned  out  pitifully.  Father 
Sanchez,  composing  himself,  waited  until  they 
were  calm,  then  continued : 

"Be  comforted,  my  children,  for  even  now  his 
spirit,  in  pity,  may  be  looking  down  on  you,  pray 
ing,  pleading,  for  you,  even  as  our  Saviour  did  on 
the  cross,  'Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know 
not  what  they  do.' 

"Ours,  my  children,  is  no  common  bereave 
ment.  The  chain  which  linked  our  hearts  to  his 
gifted  spirit  has  been  suddenly  snapped,  and  death 
has  taken  from  among  us  the  wisest  and  most  rev 
ered.  How  sudden,  how  mysteriously !  for  it  was 
but  yesterday  many  of  you  saw  him  ride  by  in  the 
fulness  of  vigor  and  health. 

"Stilled  now,  is  the  heart  of  him  who  but  yes 
terday  was  the  seat  of  loving  solicitude  for  us; 
whose  persuasive  words  we  have  so  often  and  so 
lately  heard.  Whom  can  we  appeal  to  now,  for 
aid  in  days  of  turmoil  and  trial,  when  lies  there 
cold,  he  who  with  his  death  stilled  the  horrors  of 
yesterday4?  Oh,  the  unspeakable  horror  of  that 
day,  the  death  stroke  of  noble  Claudio !  Now,  his 


Father  Sanchez'  Address  125 

spirit  mingles  with  the  army  of  martyrs  who  have 
gone  before ! 

"What  monument  can  you  erect  to  him,  who 
dedicated  the  best  of  his  life  to  you*?  Some  sym 
bol  of  his  love  for  you?  This  I  know  would  be 
his  dearest  wish:  Erect  a  lasting  monument  to 
him  in  your  hearts,  so  you  may  treasure  his  mem 
ory.  Avoid  your  past  errors,  and  forget  not  the 
virtues  he  taught  you.  Choose  the  Saviour  for 
your  support  in  temptation,  and,  when  your  hour 
comes,  he  will  meet  you  and  lead  you  to  receive 
the  reward  which  is  the  promise  of  God  to  the 
faithful.  Pray  earnestly  for  his  soul,  that  he  may 
speedily  receive  the  crown  he  so  richly  deserves. 
Tomorrow  he  shall  be  placed  to  rest  in  the  conse 
crated  spot  of  this  church,  which  he  helped  to 
erect, — this  shall  be  his  tomb." 

Father  Sanchez  paused,  and  with  a  lingering 
look  at  the  still,  pale  face,  walked  out.  His  heart 
was  breaking,  however,  for  he  died  just  two  weeks 
from  the  day  of  Don  Claudio's  death,  apparently 
through  grief.  Father  Sanchez  was  buried  at  the 
foot  of  the  altar  in  the  presbytery,  January  17, 
1833. 

Don  Claudio's  death  saved  the  further  destruc 
tion  of  the  mission,  and  possibly  many  lives.  It  is 
affirmed,  in  just  tribute  to  his  memory,  that  the 
Indians  never  attempted  another  demonstration 
of  violence  against  the  mission.  Knowing  the 


126  Claudio  and  Anita 

grandeur  of  the  man,  he  formed  a  power  in  their 
lives.  The  neophites  cherished  his  memory  even 
to  idolatry. 

*    *    * 

CHAPTER  V. 

CLAUDIO  LOPEZ,  A  PIONEER  OF  CIVIL- 
IZATION 


ON  CLAUDIO  was  the  first  white  man  to 
school  the  Indians  in  the  civilized  arts  and 
industries  of  Europe  in  the  locality  now 
known  as  Pasadena.  He  ruled  that  vast  army  of 
Indians  under  his  command  with  strict,  yet  kindly 
discipline.  They  revered  him  and  served  him  with 
respect.  His  word  was  law  to  them.  Always  mod 
erate  in  words  and  action,  he  demanded  strict 
obedience  to  his  orders.  Any  deviation  from  that 
rule,  was  punished  by  incarceration,  but  never 
with  the  lash.  His  orders  to  his  task  masters  were, 
"See  that  they  do  their  work  well;  but,  mind  ye, 
no  lashes." 

At  the  Mission  of  San  Gabriel  it  was  one  of  Don 
Claudio's  duties  to  receive  and  entertain  visitors 
of  note.  The  guests  were  wont  to  ask  whence 
came  this  young  man  so  cultured,  so  charming.  He 
received  the  greatest  respect,  even  from  his  supe 
riors;  for,  in  the  heat  of  discussion,  he  was  mod 
erate,  but  convincing.  The  wisdom  which  stamped 


Claudio  Lopez,  a  Pioneer  127 

his  views  carried  great  weight  with  all  superiors 
and  dependents.  In  his  handsome  face  dignity 
and  goodness  were  combined.  The  sorrow  which 
clung  to  him,  he  had  never  been  able  to  shake 
loose.  It  could  often  be  perceived  in  his  melan 
choly  glances.  Yet,  how  he  was  honored  by  his 
fellow  men,  and  with  what  reliance  they  looked  to 
him  for  guidance,  as  one  looks  to  friend  or  master ! 

Surely  there  have  been  verified  the  prophetic 
words  of  the  noble  Father  de  Salvidea  when,  in 
consoling  Cloudia  in  his  depressed  moods,  he 
would  say,  "My  son,  our  labors  will  yet  bear 
fruit.  We  may  not  see  it,  but  it  will  come,  though 
it  be  a  hundred  years  coming." 

Great  rejoicing  must  be  for  Don  Claudio,  if, 
with  his  spiritual  eyes,  he  beholds  the  wonderful 
development  which  has  come  in  the  land  he  loved 
so  well  and  for  which  he  stood  sponsor,  when,  un 
der  his  supervision,  ground  was  broken,  for  the 
first  time,  for  the  planting  of  trees  and  vines  and 
for  the  sowing  of  seed. 

Traces  of  his  handiwork  still  exist  in  an  old 
mill,  now  carefully  guarded  as  one  of  the  earliest 
landmarks,  where  a  somber  yet  beautiful  and 
peaceful  gloom  pervades.  Trees,  gnarled  with 
age,  still  survive.  A  lordly  pine  stands  near  the 
door,  with  its  top  slightly  leaning  towards  it,  as 
if  on  watch;  its  mournful  attitude  conveying  the 
memory  of  the  mortal  sorrow  and  untimely  death 


128  Claudia  and  Anita 

of  Don  Cl audio  Lopez,  its  architect.  There  is  an 
indescribable  charm  about  this  spot.  Homes  of 
matchless  beauty  and  magnificence  are  adjacent  to 
the  mill ;  homes  of  people,  who  could  have  chosen 
any  district  in  the  world  for  fertility,  climate  and 
beauty,  yet  decided  on  this  spot. 

Claudio  would  now  see  that  his  life's  work  had 
not  been  in  vain.  How  consoling  to  know  that 
the  mill  has  been  conserved  by  noble-hearted  peo 
ple  who  have  stayed  the  desolating  hand  of  time 
and  caused  its  presence  to  breathe  an  essence  more 
exquisite  than  the  perfume  of  the  roses  which  still 
blossom  on  the  corner  of  the  old  mill. 

One  is  lost  in  reverie.  May  not  this  be  the 
haunt  of  a  gentle  spirit  whose  life  and  whose 
appreciation  of  the  beautiful  in  nature  and  in  art 
draw  it  here4?  While  thus  musing  the  following 
lines  from  the  pen  of  Kercheval,  in  his  poem,  "San 
Gabriel",  come  to  mind : 

SAN  GABRIEL 

"This  is  the  spot  of  all  earth's 

Fondest  dreams  of  Eden 
Best  by  fairies  loved,  yet  by 

Fairies   haunted ; 
Still   o'er  the   scenes   they   loved   so   well 

Lingers  a  dreamy  glamour." 

The  whole  scene,  among  those  palatial  homes, 
is  that  of  richness,  quietudes  and  miraculous  ex 
tremes  of  culture,  suggesting  a  new  race  of  fairies 
in  this  enchanted  circle. 


BOOK  III. 


CHAPTER  I. 

RULE  OF  FRA  JOSE  MARIA  DE  SALVIDEA 
AT  SAN  GABRIEL  MISSION 

RA  JOSE  MARIA  DE  SALVIDEA  was 

born  at  Bibloa  Vizcaya,  Spain,  on  March 
2,  1780.  He  received  the  habit  of  St. 
Francis  on  Dec.  13,  1798,  and  came  to  the  col 
lege  of  San  Fernando,  Mexico,  in  September, 
1804.  He  arrived  in  California  in  August,  1805, 
and  was  stationed  at  San  Fernando  in  1805  and  at 
San  Gabriel  ni  1806-26.  At  San  Juan  Capistrano, 
1826-42,  and  at  San  Luis  Rey  in  1842-46. 

From  the  first  he  was  regarded  as  one  of  the  best 
and  most  zealous  of  the  Fathers,  as  Priest,  teacher 
and  manager  of  the  temporalities.  His  judgment 
and  prudence  had  commanded  the  unanimous  ap 
probation  of  the  Society  for  the  high  position  he 
had  enjoyed.  He  had  all  the  intrepidity  and  res 
olution  requisite  for  beginning  and  conducting 
the  greatest  enterprise.  His  wisdom  and  intellect 
ual  talent  had  gained  for  him  universal  esteem, 
which  was  heightened  to  veneration. 

Father  de  Salvidea  was  in  the  flower  of  his 
splendid  manhood  when  he  took  charge  of  the 

131 


132  Claudio  and  Anita 

ecclesiastical  and  temporal  affairs  of  the  San  Ga 
briel  Mission  in  the  year  of  1806.  He  was  tall, 
stately  and  courteous.  His  complexion  was  fair 
and  his  face  one  of  remarkable  delicacy  and  refine 
ment.  History  relates  he  was  never  known  to  have 
an  enemy.  His  mind  was  vigorous  like  his  body. 
He  looked  fearlessly  at  the  face  of  the  mighty 
task  he  undertook,  which  has  been  related  in  the 
beginning  of  our  story.  He  surveyed  the  situa 
tion  and  measured  the  extent  of  his  knowledge 
and  understanding;  then  he  looked  for  an  assist 
ant,  and  found  an  efficient  and  capable  co-opera 
tor  in  Claudio  Lopez.  Both  went  body,  soul  and 
heart  into  the  work  of  civilizing  and  christianiz 
ing  the  savages  in  this  jurisdiction,  instructing 
them  in  the  industries  of  self-support,  and  estab 
lishing  the  affairs  of  the  Mission  in  wealth  and 
opulence. 

Father  de  Salvidea  had  also  a  comfortable 
house,  built  just  across  the  El  Camino  Real,  west 
of  the  church,  for  the  exclusive  use  of  Claudio 
Lopez  and  for  the  accommodation  of  guests  who 
should  come  to  the  Mission.  It  had  spacious  rooms, 
luxuriantly  furnished,  adorned  with  paintings, — 
some  of  them  by  the  old  masters, — genuine  and 
great  works  of  art.  The  entertainment  of  the 
guests  was  assigned  to  Don  Claudio,  he  being  a 
man  of  letters,  courteous  and  affable. 


Rule  of  Fra.  J.  M.  De  Salvidea          133 

Father  de  Salvidea  mastered  the  Indian  lan 
guage,  translating  the  church  service  into  it,  and 
preached  to  the  Indians  in  their  native  tongue,  "a 
grand  specimen  of  his  eloquence  and  ability." 

By  a  noted  historian :  George  Wharton  James.* 
he  was  called  the  "Martinet  of  Missionaries", 
and,  in  truth,  he  might  be  called  so;  for  his 
achievements  attest  this  statement.  Under  his  ad 
ministration,  together  with  the  supervision  of  his 
major-domo,  Claudio  Lopez,  the  Mission  of  San 
Gabriel  attained  its  maximum  of  prosperity.  He 
brought  the  establishment  and  everything  con 
nected  with  it  to  the  climax  of  perfection.  He 
planted  orchards  and  vineyards,  and  the  gardens 
were  a  marvel  of  beauty.  They  were  edged  with 
Castilian  rose  bushes, — fountains,  statuary,  hour- 
dials,  arbors  and  grottoes,  fine  walks  shaded  by 
fruit  trees  of  every  description,  exotic  shrubs  and 
flowers,  interspersed.  Everything  was  in  such 
perfect  taste,  that  the  effect  was  both  harmonious 
and  restful.  He  brought  water  from  a  long  dis 
tance  through  cement  pipes  with  which  to  irrigate 
gardens  and  orchards. 

He  remodeled  the  existent  system  of  Govern 
ment.  Under  his  wonderful  management,  herds 
of  cattle,  horses. and  sheep  increased  to  innumer- 

*  George  Wharton  James  in  his  History  of  the  Mis 
sions. 


134  Claudia  and  Anita 

able  numbers  in  a  few  years.  According  to  Robin 
son's  report,  the  Mission  of  San  Gabriel  had  12,- 
000  cattle  in  1814,  twelve  years  after  Father  Sal- 
videa  took  charge.  It  has  been  the  custom,  in  cur 
rent  newspapers,  to  grossly  exaggerate  the  wealth 
and  prosperity  of  this  Mission ;  though,  doubtless, 
under  the  care  of  Father  Salvidea  it  was  wisely 
and  systematically  managed  and  prosperous.  How 
can  one  imagine  that  a  priest,  loved  and  revered 
by  the  neophites,  could  be  guilty  of  such  diabolic 
cruelty  as  some  historians  relate'?  It  is  a  slander 
on  that  grand  and  holy  man.  The  best  and  most 
equivocal  proof  is  found  in  the  unbounded  affec 
tion  invariably  shown  towards  him  by  the  neo 
phites.  They  venerated  him  like  a  father  with  a 
degree  of  devotion  approaching  adoration.  In  sup 
port  of  my  argument  I  will  quote,  from  Bartlett's 
report,  the  following: 

"Five  thousand  Indians  were  at  that  time  col 
lected  at  the  Mission  of  San  Gabriel.  They  are 
represented  to  have  been  sober  and  industrious, 
well  fed  and  clothed,  and  seemed  to  have  experi 
enced  as  high  a  state  of  happiness  as  they  are 
adapted  by  nature  to  receive.  These  five  thousand 
Indians  constituted  a  large  family  of  which  the 
Padre  was  the  social  and  religious,  and  we  might 
say,  political  head.  Living  thus,  this  neglected 
race  began  to  learn  some  of  the  fundamental  prin 
ciples  of  civilized  life.  The  institution  of  mar- 


Rule  of  Fra.  J.  M.  De  Salvidea          135 

riage  began  to  be  respected  and  blessed.  The 
rites  of  religion  grew  to  be  so  much  considered, 
that  deviations  from  its  duties  were  somewhat 
infrequent  occurrences.  The  girls,  at  their  arrival 
at  the  age  of  womanhood,  were  separated  from 
the  rest  of  the  population  and  taught  the  useful 
arts  of  sewing,  weaving,  carding,  etc.  The  young 
men  who  showed  talent  for  music  were  instructed 
in  it.  Some  of  them  wrote  their  own  music." 


CHAPTER  II. 
THE  DESPOILING  OF  THE  MISSIONS 

HE  chief  of  the  Ketchis  of  San  Luis  Rey 
told  Bartlett  that  his  tribe  was  large  and 
that  his  people  were  happy  when  the  good 
Padres  were  there  to  protect  them;  that  they  cul 
tivated  the  soil,  assisted  in  rearing  large  herds  of 
cattle,  were  taught  blacksmi  thing,  carpentering, 
as  well  as  other  trades;  that  they  had  plenty  to 
eat  and  were  comfortably  housed.  Such  was  the 
happy  state  of  the  Indians  under  the  missionaries. 
After  the  secularization  they  were  scattered  about 
without  a  home  or  protection,  and  were  in  a  miser 
able  starving  condition. 

"Is  it  not  terrible,"  he  continued,  ccto  see  wrested 
from  us  the  Missions  we  have  built,  the  herds  that 
we  have  gathered  by  our  care,  and  ourselves  and 


136  Claudia  and  Anita 

our  families  exposed  to  ill  treatment  and  death 
itself?' 

Forbes  shows  them  reduced  to  poverty,  plunged 
in  vice,  constantly  in  prison  and  a  pest  to  the 
country,  within  a  short  time  after  the  suppression 
of  the  Missions. 

San  Gabriel,  once  the  hive  of  industries,  rich  in 
gold  derived  from  the  trading  of  its  abundant  re 
sources,  the  toil  of  the  neophites,  from  the  num 
berless  herd,  and  the  boundless  zeal,  toil  and  sac- 
rines  of  our  heroes, — all  came  to  naught  through 
the  secularization,  and,  in  the  same  degree  that 
we  admire  those  zealous  heroes,  we  must  stamp 
with  ignominy  the  men  and  the  policy  which  de 
stroyed  the  work  of  the  Missionaries  and  drove 
their  inmates,  the  neophites,  back  to  a  state  worse 
than  barbarism. 

Father  de  Salvidea  was  kind  in  the  extreme  to 
travelers  and  others.  A  splendid  public  table  was 
spread  daily  at  which  he  presided.  Horses  to  ride 
were  at  the  services  of  the  guests;  and  good  clean 
beds  to  sleep  upon  at  night. 

In  fact,  the  government  of  the  Mission  San 
Gabriel  was  conducted  by  Father  de  Salvidea  like 
a  little  principality ;  yet,  whatever  he  planned  and 
so  grandly  executed,  the  thought  of  the  best  in 
terests  of  the  Mission  and  the  temporal  and  spirit 
ual  advancement  of  the  neophites  were  para 
mount.  He  surrounded  himself  with  the  beauti- 


Despoiling  of  the  Missions         137 

fill  things  of  nature  and  art.  His  elegance  per 
vaded  everything,  which  told  their  own  story 
of  a  life  begun  in  high  spheres.  History  relates, 
that  envy  and  jealousy  stepped  in  and  prevailed. 

He  was  ordered  by  his  superiors  to  the  partially 
wrecked  missions  of  San  Juan  Capistrano.  How 
ever,  Father  de  Salvidea  obtained  permission  to 
remain  at  San  Gabriel  a  while  longer,  which  time 
lengthened  to  about  four  years.  He  had  hoped 
that  his  influence  among  the  neophites  might  quell 
the  abandonment  into  which  they  were  falling. 

Who  can  tell  the  long  agony  of  spirit,  the  inex 
plicable  anguish  that  he  endured  in  the  face  of 
this  catastrophe?  It  was  at  this  juncture  that 
Father  de  Salvidea,  in  a  desperate  extremity  and 
with  a  courage  that  rose  above  the  wreck  of  hope, 
wrote  that  admirable  plea  and  petition  in  behalf 

of  the  Indians. 

at    n    *, 

CHAPTER  III. 

FATHER  DE  SALVIDEA'S  REMOVAL  TO 
SAN  JUAN  CAPISTRANO 

INALLY,  it  became  impossible  for  him  to 
remain  at  San  Gabriel  any  longer.  To 
leave,  and  obey  the  order,  which  transfer 
red  him  to  San  Juan  Capistrano,  he  knew  would 
cost  him  a  struggle ;  yet  he  must  obey. 

Father  de  Salvidea  stood  looking  at  the  garden 


138  Claudio  and  Anita 

he  had  planted  and  had  watched  come  into  bloom, 
— the  paths  he  had  trodden  when  reading  his  bre 
viary.  He  looked  over  at  the  mountains;  there 
under  the  green  and  silent  shade  of  the  majestic 
oaks  and  pines  were  the  haunts  of  many  a  medi 
tating  hour.  With  his  noble  form,  shaken  by  emo 
tion,  and  with  a  bleeding  heart  he  bowed  his 
head  and  departed,  after  having  given  twenty- 
eight  years  of  his  life  to  the  service  of  the  Mis 
sion.  Fourteen  years  after  the  height  of  San  Ga 
briel's  epoch  of  prosperity  and  renown,  conditions 
had  changed  at  the  Mission. 

We  have  seen  Father  de  Salvidea  in  the  glory 
of  his  days;  now  his  looks  are  no  more  lofty,  nor 
his  steps  stately ;  the  vigor  of  his  intellect  is  gone. 
Of  all  that  was  gained  in  these  years  of  ardent 
labors,  nothing  remained;  only  broken  memories 
of  the  glory  that  was  departed. 

A  few  years  later  we  see  him  again,  as  he  stood 
leaning  on  his  staff,  tears  overflowing  from  his 
breaking  heart.  He  looks  upon  the  destruction, 
now  taking  place,  of  all  those  years  of  sacrifice  and 
patient,  consecrated  toil;  for  General  Echandia, 
with  other  political  intruders,  wreckers  of  Spanish 
California,  were  encouraging  the  Indians,  among 
whom  anarchy  prevailed,  by  flaunting  equality  in 
their  faces,  and  by  promising  those  simple  people 
a  share  in  the  spoils. 

Robbing  and  stabbings  were  the  order  of  those 


Father  De  Salvidea's  Removal          139 

days.  Drunken  Indians,  staggering  along  from 
the  scenes  of  debauch  ejaculated  "Soy  Libre  —  Soy 
Libre!"—  "I  am  free—  I  am  free!" 

Such  sights  pierced  the  weary  old  padre  to  the 
heart,  and  the  government  did  not  and  could  not 
afford  security  to  any  condition  of  life,  either 
within  or  without  the  Missions. 

This  knowledge,  and  the  fierceness  of  his  losing 
struggles,  filled  the  padre's  eyes  with  tears,  and 
made  him  sad,  even  at  the  sight  of  San  Gabriel's 
hills  and  valleys,  gay  with  flowers  and  the  clear 
sweet  air  in  their  mingled  perfume.  In  the  midst 
of  this  beauty,  peaceful  and  secure  stands  his  be 
loved  San  Gabriel,  shining  in  the  pale  light,  its 
noble  fachada,  its  bell  tower,  its  noble  cross,  out 
lining  themselves  against  the  clear  and  peaceful 
sky.  Often  he  walked  on  the  crest  of  the  hills  and 
often  he  stopped  to  rest,  his  abstracted  gaze  riv 
eted  in  the  far-away  beginning  of  all  those  things. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  PASSING  OF  A  NOBLE  SOUL 


HEN  sick  unto  death,  he  refused  to  quit 
San  Luis  Rey,  where  he  believed  his  serv 
ices  to  be  needed;  but  finally  it  was 
thought  best  to  remove  him  to  San  Juan,  where  he 
could  have  better  care.  A  cart  was  prepared,  with 


140  Claudio  and  Anita 

all  possiblbe  conveniences,  by  advice  of  Father  A. 
Oliva  and  A.  Lorenzana,  who  had  nursed  him  for 
some  days. 

The  night  before  the  journey  was  to  be  made 
Father  de  Salvidea  died,  much  regretted  by  all 
who  knew  his  worth  and  gigantic  intellect.  The 
exact  date  of  his  death  is  not  known,  but  it  was 
apparently  early  in  1846.  He  was  buried  in  the 
Mission  San  Luis  Rey  at  the  left  of  the  altar. 

Many  years  have  passed ;  but  San  Gabriel  Mis 
sion  still  stands,  in  all  its  pristine  beauty;  but  in 
its  surroundings  another  race  now  dwells.  Here 
and  there,  in  humble  dwellings,  still  remain  a  few 
natives,  whose  fathers  never  tire  of  repeating  the 
story  of  the  great  but  silent  Don  Claudio  and  the 
saintly  Father  de  Salvidea. 

We  cannot  refrain  from  copying  the  following 
adaptation  of  lines  from  Longfellow  for  the  sake 
of  the  interest  they  inspire. 

"Rise  again,  ye  shapes  and  shadows  of  the  past, 

Rise  from  your  long- forgotten  graves : 

Let  us  behold  your  face ; 

Let  us  hear  the  words  of  wisdom  you  uttered  in 

those  days  of  yore; 
Revisit  your  familiar  haunts  again, 
The  scenes  of  triumph,  the  scenes  of  care  and  pain, 
And  leave  the  footprints  of  your  bleeding  feet 
Once  more  upon  the  Camino  Real !" 


fke  Passing  of  a  Noble  Soul  141 

Should  those  noble  men  be  forgotten,  who, 
without  a  thought  of  profit  or  gain  or  self-aggran 
dizement,  gave  their  lives  with  heroic  devotion  to 
the  cause  of  Christianity  and  Civilization?  Should 
we  not,  with  sculptored  figures,  perpetuate  their 
names  and  rehearse  their  virtues  to  the  passing 
traveler? 

We  fear,  that  by  setting  before  the  eyes  of  our 
readers  recitals  of  misfortunes,  which  overtook 
persons  of  highest  quality  and  lofty  aims,  we  will, 
of  necessity,  weaken  our  faith  in  the  fruits  of 
self-sacrifice ;  but  let  us  hope  that  it  cannot  fail  to 
be  significant  in  example  and  inspiration.  These 
noble  men  accepted  their  fate  as  soldiers  of  God, 
Christianity  and  Civilization. 

They  were  good  and  great  in  what  they  were 
and  did;  and  great,  too,  in  the  wrongs  and  mis 
fortunes  which  befell,  even  as  an  oak,  crashing  in 
storm  or  by  axe,  on  the  hillside  is  still  great, — is 
still  oak. 

We  may  well  believe,  that  the  closing  scene  for 
Father  de  Salvidea  was  full  of  tranquillity,  hope 
and  faith;  and,  that  he,  who  had  given  his  life 
to  so  great  and  holy  a  purpose,  and  who  had  passed 
through  deep  worldly  trials  and  sorrows,  should 
rest  at  last  in  the  peace  which  passeth  all  under 
standing. 


142  Claudio  and  Anita 

"Spread  out  earth's  holiest  records  here, 

Of  days  and  deeds  which  scattered  wide  and 

free 

The  golden  seeds  of  bright  and  loving  truth, 
Whose  harvests  multiply,  whose  fruits  forever 

more  must  be." 
So,  great  soul,  consecrated  and  faithful  life — 

Requiescat  in  Pace. 


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